


The Course of the River

by hhhhhhhappycow



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Could still be read as canon, Gen, With just some extra scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhhhhhhappycow/pseuds/hhhhhhhappycow
Summary: Tobirama knows, as his brother once knew, that his time as the Hokage is drawing to an end. As he contemplates over the future of their still new village, he also recalls the hard-fought battles that led to it being established, and in particular his relationship with members of the Uchiha clan across the years.
Relationships: But no pairings intended other than Hashirama and Mito, Could be read as Tobiizu, Especially towards the end - Relationship, Sarutobi Hiruzen & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama & Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito, Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Izuna, Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Kagami
Comments: 20
Kudos: 52





	1. Brothers

Senju Tobirama understood death for the first time when he was nine years old.

“And so, the great sage called his sons to him. Once they had gathered, he announced his decision as to who would succeed him. However… Indra was shocked to discover that Asura was the chosen successor, and not him. And he was consumed by rage.”

As if to emphasize her tale, the wizened woman stoked the fire with the rusty rod she kept clutched in her clawed hand.

Tobirama scrunched up his nose. “Why would he do that to his sons when it was obviously going to turn them against each other?”

Their great-grandmother coughed and Tobirama was suddenly afraid, afraid that her empty eyes would turn to him, root him to the floor. Instead, however, she laughed and patted his head. “This one is a sharp one.”

Hashirama was sitting with his arms around his knees and his knees against his chest. If it hadn’t been for their sides pressed close together, Tobirama wouldn’t have been able to see him, couldn’t make out his form in the dark. He mumbled something.

“Hashirama?”, Tobirama asked, suddenly concerned.

“I think it’s a sad story”, Hashirama repeated, and his lips were pulled down in a deeply-shadowed frown. Tobirama could only make out his brother’s lower lip, a thin crescent.

“It is rather sad”, the elderly woman replied. Her voice was matter of fact, yet her tone was light.

Hashirama’s round eyes, glowing like moons, danced with the licks of the flames as he raised his head to peer up at her. The rest of his face was only half-visible in the darkness. “Were you really there?”

Tobirama scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. It’s not a real story.”

He fell silent, shuffling back a little when their great-grandmother leaned down in her seat to fix him with her milky gaze.

Turning back to the fire so he couldn’t see her, her voice came rasping in the darkness, and he pressed a little closer to Hashirama’s side, seeking comfort in the warmth of his brother’s chakra signature; “It’s the story that was passed down to me by my own grandmother. I told it to your grandmother. And your father.”

Tobirama watched as she carefully set the metal rod down onto the floor by the fire and settled back into her chair.

“But it’s the women of the family who hold onto this sort of story. Your father… He forgot. And I can see you two won’t pass it on to your children. You are not storytellers.”

“No”, Tobirama agreed, muttering it under his breath, “we’re the fighters. We’re going to be the ones you tell the stories about.”

And that made Hashirama perk up a little; there was a shifting of cloth as his head lifted, a flare in his aura that wrapped itself around Tobirama like a warm cloth.

Encouraged, Tobirama continued; “I’ll make everyone tell about how handsome I am.”

Hashirama blinked, his half-shadowed features drooping slightly in uncertainty. “Grandma didn’t say anything about the Sage or his sons being handsome.”

“Were they, grandma?”

“Very”, the old woman responded.

Tobirama carried on, hoping to make Hashirama laugh the same way he had made Grandma laugh before. “Don’t worry, Hashirama, I’ll make sure they say you’re handsome, too.”

It didn’t work. At Hashirama’s even more confused expression, Tobirama giggled himself.

A sharp ray of light cut in like a razor, stinging Tobirama’s eyes, as the flap of the tent they were crouched in was lifted. In the opening stood a dark silhouette of a tall man.

Tobirama’s eyes adjusted, and he could see his father’s face.

Senju Butsuma stood in the entrance for a moment, staring at the scene as if in confusion. Then his eyes latched onto Tobirama and he asked, quiet and calm; “Why are you laughing?”

Tobirama stared back, his mouth-half open. His hands clutched at the material on the floor.

“Why are you laughing?”, his father repeated in the same measured tone. And then, in a strangled voice; “It’s time for your brother’s funeral. There is no place for laughter today.”

And Tobirama was lost, he was flung out of his own body by the steel of his father’s eyes. He was aware of a vaguely sick feeling in his stomach.

Hashirama pressed his hand, tethering him to the floor. Tobirama looked at his big brother with wide eyes, searching and finding his dark face as pale as the white sky in the blinding shaft of sunlight.

“Dad, he wasn’t trying to be disrespectful or anything like that. He’s just upset and trying to cope. We all are.”

Tobirama saw when their father’s eyes focused on Hashirama, narrowing in as his brother kept talking.

“He’s young. He doesn’t really get-”

“I do get it!”, Tobirama burst out, leaping to his feet as he spoke. How could his brother say that when Tobirama had been there, had seen… He wasn’t that much younger than Hashirama. “Itama is dead and it’s because of the Uchiha!”

Hashirama lowered his head, brown hair framing his face so Tobirama couldn’t see his expression.

He turned to Butsuma and dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, father. I should not have been so defiant.”

Butsuma drew his cloak around him and nodded stiffly. Tobirama clambered to his feet.

“Hashirama, get up. It’s time.”

Hashirama too leaped to his feet. Before exiting the tent, he turned to look at the elderly woman still seated inside. Tobirama slowed to a halt, waiting for him.

“Are you not coming, grandma?”

She didn’t look at them at them as she answered.

“I have been to too many funerals in my lifetime. My bones are aching so I believe I will stay here.”

For whatever reason, their father didn’t seem to be angry at her. Tobirama didn’t really get why not. Surely, she knew death was just a part of life, and those who gave their lives in battle should be honored for it? Even as young as he was, he understood that.

Still, as he stood by his brother’s dirt-covered body with his fists clenched, listening as his father swore vengeance and Hashirama sobbed beside him and hating the Uchiha more than anything, he prayed he would never have to see anybody else he cared about sent to their graves again.

*

Tobirama wakes up from a nightmare he can’t quite remember and lays on his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Staring patterns into the bark. Staring at the way the late-morning light shines in and illuminates his room. Basic, even though he is the leader of their village, has been for a little while now.

He wonders momentarily why he has been allowed to sleep in for so long and, as he sits up, he is reminded of the reason by the ache in his leg.

Ah. Of course. The battle. His injury. It was nearly completely healed, but he had yet to lead his squad into another fight since it had occurred. Mito had told him- ordered him, even- to take some rest. She and the rest of the council could manage everything, with a little help from Tobirama’s talented team. Tobirama had heard her barking- sometimes literally- at members of his council who had dared to venture near his house at what she deemed to be too early an hour.

He gets up, gets dressed, and goes outside, not really aiming for anywhere in particular. He merely enjoys the stiff breeze ruffling his fur collar, the familiar ache of both his leg and other, more ancient wounds. He is older now; he can feel it in his bones, in the way these injuries have been amassing. This last one had him out for longer than he had expected, and it is still a strain not to limp.

But they are at war, and a leader must fight through these things.

He goes by his brother’s house, considering stopping to speak to Mito, before remembering that she was going with Sarutobi Sasuke and a couple of chunin to meet with the Hyuuga clan today. Their demands for joining the village were extensive. So extensive that Tobirama sometimes privately wondered whether it was even worth it. They are a large clan of strong and intelligent shinobi, but the village is more than strong enough. Or, at least, he had thought it was, until other villages- other strong forces united forces, _enemies_ \- had sprung up, seemingly from nowhere.

Still, Tobirama could see the Hyuuga’s resolve wavering, and a few stragglers- members of their branch families, mainly teenagers and young adults apparently going through a rebellious phase- had already begun to visit and speak about where they might begin building their houses. If anyone can break them down completely, he knows Mito will. There had been times in the past he had doubted her, especially after she became a jinchuriki; a foolish idea, really. A dangerous idea. However, she had proven Hashirama’s faith in her, and he had grown to value her counsel all the more after losing his brother.

He changes course, walking on outside the village, towards where he knows his team will be training. To the best of his memory, none of them were on missions today. They normally would be, but the last two days Touka- currently taking over the assignment of missions- had told them to spend time training, since she knew that Tobirama had nearly completely recovered and would want his team in close proximity as soon as he was ready to launch another operation against one of their enemies. And hopefully, this one would turn out better than the previous battle.

It hadn’t been intended as a battle. They had set out on a simple reconnaissance mission, venturing into the Land of Lightning to meet with some rogue shinobi who had been offering information in exchange for money. Someone must have given them away; they soon found themselves pursued to the edge of their own land by the Raikage and his forces. To make matters worse, a dozen shinobi from the Land of Mist had appeared, entering the fray. He wondered if they had been on their way to launch an attack or if, like them, it had been an exercise in gathering information.

Whatever the case, Tobirama and his team had retreated swiftly, many of them injured.

His calf tweaks once more, as if it knows what he is thinking about. Again, nothing serious; simply the latest in a long line of battle scars. In the last few years, the injuries have piled on and clung to him. And it isn’t just the external injuries.

Tobirama has always prided himself on being a strong man. Before he died, Hashirama had told him that he felt like he was rotting from the inside. And Tobirama thought he was beginning to understand that feeling. As if the chakra he always weaponized against others was now turning back in on him.

But he knows he can’t die while the village needs protection. He simply can’t. At least, he thinks, as he hears kunai striking trees, he will be leaving it in safe hands.

*

They had been passing through the Land of Hot Springs and had almost reached the border when the first kunai whistled past and struck a tree near Tobirama’s head.

The battle had erupted quickly, Cloud shinobi everywhere he looked, and then a squad of Mist shinobi as well, just in case the situation hadn’t been already dire enough already.

Shirou Aburame, one of his top ANBU agents, had been leading another division somewhere nearby, having backed them up on their expedition, waiting for them at the border of the Land of Lightning for their return, but that unit had since fallen back. Thankfully they had taken the scrolls that the rogue shinobi had given Tobirama with them: No matter the outcome of the fight, it was a win for Konoha.

Tobirama huffed as one of the Cloud shinobi drove a sword straight through his clone’s chest, dissipating it, and turned his sights to Tobirama himself. Before he could even move, Koharu was there, slapping him with a bomb tag. Tobirama barely had time to kick him away before he exploded.

He gave Koharu a small nod of recognition, summoned another clone, and turned back into the fray.

Mito could have ended the fight, possibly ended the war, if she was there, and he blindly wishes, as he sends a kunai flying at a Mist kunoichi who was wrestling with Torifu, that he hadn’t told her to remain behind and protect the village. Protect Tsunade, as her parents were both fighting on another mission, somewhere close to the Land of Wind.

His kunai hit its target. He wheeled around on one foot, seeking out the rest of his team.

And then he saw a sight which drained him of his blood. The Raikage and the Jinchuriki of the Cloudvillage. The two of them scattering those in their path; Mist shinobi, thankfully, but Koharu and Homura were directly in their line of sight, oblivious to the oncoming danger as they fought back to back.

He flickered to their side as fast as he could, grabbing Koharu’s shoulder and steadying her: She was putting all of her weight onto one leg and, looking down, there was blood spattered around where she stood. Homura turned to him as well as he began to yell over the clattering of sword on sword.

“We can’t hold them off. Fall back, we’ll let them fight each other. Find the others and get going: I’ll be right behind you.”

Homura nodded, and he and Koharu vanished in an instant.

With a resolute nod to himself, Tobirama turned to the carnage at his back. He drew his scarred hands together and began creating the hand signals. Familiar ones, fairly basic. When performed by someone else, that was.

Another user of the same jut may only have been able to call forth a spray of snow, a small storm through which it was possible to fight.

Tobirama brought up a whirlwind of ice and snow, an impenetrable curtain carving across the battlefield. Sleet fell so quickly as to turn the air an opaque grey in places. The cold wind stung even Tobirama’s face.

The Raikage and the Jinchuriki were barely visible now. To their credit, they seemed to realise that this was a diversion for the Leaf shinobi to escape rather than the prelude to an attack, and turned their attention instead to the more pressing threat of the Mist swordsmen closing in.

Tobirama whirled about, seeking the Konoho headbands. Koharu and Homura had already reached the edge of the battlefield, and Torifu and Hiruzen were not far behind them. Kagami was just removing a knife from the shoulder of a fallen Cloud warrior. Danzou stood several paces to his left, watching the storm with wide eyes.

“Shinobi!”

All eyes turned to him.

Tobirama’s hands came together, forming another signal this time: Not a jutsu, but a silent communication. _Retreat._

Danzou scrambled to collect himself and then fled after his teammates, Kagami hot on his heels.

As the Hokage made to follow them, there was a scream.

“Lord Senju!”

The Cloud fighters were laying into the Mist shinobi, but one of the group of Mist swordsmen had broken away from his squadron and was only steps away, slicing with their sword. Tobirama could see the small beads of water flying from the blade.

His reaction was quick, but not quick enough. The lack of sleep over the past several days, the final stretch of this mission, was catching up to him. In stepping to avoid a blow, he fell for a feint, which only became apparent when the Mist swordsman- and this was the reason Mist swordsmen were so renowned, this dexterity and agility with their weapon- pivoted his upper body at the last moment, blade swinging almost lazily to land on target.

It was only his leg, Tobirama told himself, as he watched the deep gash to his calf begin to gush blood. It could have been much worse.

In the time the swordsman prepared for his next attack, Kagami had reached his side. A firm arm wrapped about his shoulders, an attempt to keep him from crumpling.

No, Tobirama wanted to yell. Go back. I will be fine.

But there was no time for silly arguments. He had to take the help that was being offered.

Tightening his fingers against Kagami’s bitingly cold armor, Tobirama propelled himself away with his good leg, jumping back a few steps towards the treeline, towards his students and safety.

The swordsman followed unflinchingly.

Tobirama winced as the sword rose high in the air and once more began to fall, gathering speed as the steel swung toward him. Kagami raised a hand as if he could protect his teacher that way. The Hokage braced himself, planting his feet firmly on the floor, ready to push Kagami out of the way.

The blade never fell.

Instead, Danzou was there, standing over them. Kagami gave a small moan, his mouth and eyes wide. For a second Tobirama wasn’t sure whether the sword had hacked through Danzou’s armor or not. His question was answered as Danzou began to make choking sounds, blood seeping through his clothes.

The sword was yanked back, and Danzou’s body flew halfway with it before becoming unstuck and dropping down once more.

Aware that Danzou had bought them mere seconds, Tobirama reached for Kagami with one hand, Danzou with the other- and how small they still were, even though they were fully grown adults- and began tugging them away from the battlefield, straining not to stagger and buckle at the screaming pain in his leg. He had made it only a few steps before he stumbled and dropped to his knees, Danzou collapsing half on top of him.

Fortunately, Kagami had regained his senses by then. The Uchiha gripped Danzou’s other side, supporting some of his weight as Tobirama clambered back up, clawing at the air. The earth beneath them was turning wet and churning into mud, but Tobirama was unsure whether it was a jutsu or if it was a combination of blood pouring and feet trampling. They didn’t have time to turn back. They had to get out.

With a brief shared glance with Kagami, the two of them continued hauling Danzou’s prone body across the battlefield. Initially, Danzou’s legs moved with them, but they provided no support and seemed to be moving of their own accord, pawing at the ground. When they fell still there was little difference.

Tobirama noticed with relief that Hiruzen and the others had slowed in their retreat, were covering them as they fell back. The way ahead of them cleared and the yells and dull thuds grew dimmer and more distant.

Once they had made it deep enough into the cover of the woodland without being followed that Tobirama had decided it was safe, they stopped.

Safe. As if their world could ever be safe.

The war was not going the way he had wanted it to.

Torifu and Homura tended to Danzou’s wounds, stemming the bleeding as best they could, and then they wasted no time in continuing their return to the village, the two of them carrying their injured comrade between them on a stretcher that Koharu had conjured from somewhere.

Tobirama walked behind them, letting all of his weight shift onto one leg. Hiruzen moved to help him, slipping an arm under his shoulder. Tobirama shrugged him off. Without a word, Hiruzen moved to join Koharu in the lead.

Kagami drifted back and forth, sometimes walking beside Tobirama at the back, other times joining Hiruzen and Koharu, but most of the time remaining beside Danzou. The injured man lay silent, and Tobirama prayed that he was still breathing.

As they neared the village Danzou gasped as though he had escaped being submerged in deep water and began to moan. In other circumstances Tobirama may have willed him to be silent or thrown up a genjutsu to muffle the sounds clawing from his throat but, being so close to home, there was little use. Let the village know what this war was costing them, why not?

Kagami returned to Danzou’s side and began to whisper to him. “It’s okay. We’re nearly home, Danzou. Just hold on.” And then, a little more desperate; “You can’t die, you’re too young. Twenty-four is no age to die.”

Tobirama kept his gaze level in front of him as they moved through the trees. Further ahead, Hiruzen and Koharu were speaking in a murmur of the losses they had suffered over the course of the war. Koharu’s father. Hiruzen’s cousins. And now- Their voices ceased.

He closed his eyes, slowing his pace and allowing the others to draw further ahead several meters. He wondered whether soon, as he feared, he would fight his final battle. Perhaps it would be for the best. He had been the one who willed them into this war. He was glad, he supposed, that he knew he could leave the village in such capable hands.

Opening his eyes, Tobirama looked to each of their figures moving stealthily along the path towards home with pride, tracing over them one by one, even the Uchiha. His gaze finally rested on Danzou. His wounds were not visible from the distance that had grown between them, but his armor and clothing were drenched in blood, his face pale and shrunken. Tobirama thought to himself that Kagami was right: twenty-four is no age to die.


	2. Chakra

That morning Tobirama had been so focused on following his brother that he had not realized he himself was being followed until the dark-haired boy leaped from the undergrowth, knocking him from his feet. He hit the earth with a dull thud and scrambled to pull himself up, for a weapon, for _anything_.

He cursed under his breath. He had been training so hard in recognizing chakras; he should have recognized an enemy approaching! His hand reached his knife but even as he grabbed it the boy kicked it from his hands. Tobirama watched it strike a tree handle-first and disappear somewhere into the shrubbery.

Perhaps Hashirama would hear the commotion and come to his rescue. He drew in a deep breath, not quite prepared to concede defeat, yet ready to call out for help if need be. _Were they even still in Senju land?_

The hope was a fleeting one, however. Whoever the boy was, he moved as silently as Tobirama himself. Their clash and subsequent fall to the forest floor provided little more noise than that muted thud and some rustled bushes, and now the boy pressed his arm to Tobirama’s windpipe, comically large kunai clasped in one small fist.

Tobirama had never been choked before, not properly. Stabbed and struck and kicked frequently, mostly in training. He knew it was a way to kill, to deprive your opponent of breath, yet was surprised by how much it hurt. All of the air rushed out of him as the boy leaned heavily on his chest. Bile rose in his throat and he couldn’t even swallow it, could do nothing but work his jaw and writhe to get free.

The boy was saying something. Tobirama finally let himself go still, listening. Perhaps the boy would let him up if he listened.

“What are you doing following my brother?”

Tobirama mustered all of his strength and thrust up with his whole body. The boy’s arm was knocked away. It was replaced by the kunai, teasing at his throat. Tobirama could live with that, even as it pressed deeper into his neck when he sucked in a retching breath.

When he could speak, he spat back; “I’m following _my_ brother.”

The boy stared at him for a moment, then moved back. Tobirama took that as a sign that it was safe to sit up. He drew his shuriken, just in case.

Getting a proper look at the boy, Tobirama was surprised he had been knocked off balance by him. He wasn’t abnormally small but was slighter than Tobirama. He was pale, too, with big dark eyes that flickered nervously about. He still held the kunai, much as Tobirama held the shuriken, and regarded him warily from a crouching position several feet away.

“That boy with Hashirama… He’s your brother?”, Tobirama asked eventually when the other boy didn’t say anything.

“Is that his name? Hashirama?”

“Yes.” Tobirama bristled. He probably shouldn’t have told a stranger that. Father would be furious if he were here.

But then; “Madara is my brother. My older brother.”

Tobirama looked him over again. The other boy- the one with Hashirama, this ‘Madara’- was taller than this one. “Yes, I guessed that.”

The boy seemed to relax somewhat, dusting off his tunic and loosening the grip on his knife. He said; “So you were following them too.”

Tobirama gave a small nod of assent, gaze still trained on the kunai.

The boy shrugged. “Well, we’ve probably lost them now.”

A minute passed in almost complete silence. The boy put his knife away and sank down onto the ground, landing with a small ‘oof’.

This kid was probably telling the truth, Tobirama decided, and was the brother of the boy his brother had befriended. They certainly looked alike. Tobirama wasn’t sure which clan they came from, but they had to be a local one. Maybe the Sarutobi or the Inuzuka?

Tobirama sighed and admitted; “I’ve followed them a few times before; they usually go down to the river and practice there.”

“You keep following them?” The boy tilted his head. His spiky dark hair flopped over to one side as he did so.

“Sometimes. I use them to practice my chakra signals. You know, letting my brother get out of sight in the forest and then trying to track him. Like that.”

“Do you ever play with them too?”

“No.” For some reason, Tobirama figured they wouldn’t be very happy about his joining them. Especially Madara. He seemed… Paranoid, almost. Always watching over his shoulder. Little did he know…

“How come?”

He wouldn’t tell this boy that. “More fun to follow.”

The boy nodded as though that made perfect sense. “Like a spy.”

“Exactly.”

“Come on… Let’s go find them.”

Tobirama stared at him for a moment. He didn’t want to follow this boy anywhere, nor have him walking at his own back. But he didn’t sense anything that indicated that the boy meant him harm. And the closer Tobirama got to Hashirama, the safer he would be. He and Hashirama could take this boy on together, no problem, and anybody else he had brought with him.

They started walking, Tobirama moving warily, always half-turned to the smaller figure shadowing him. He didn’t rush and the boy didn’t hurry him; if their brothers were by the river, then they would catch up to them. If they were gone, well, good reason for Tobirama to leave this boy behind and go home. He could try again another day.

“Our brothers aren’t really supposed to be meeting out here, you know”, Tobirama said. He received no reply, so he continued; “You and your brother aren’t a part of our clan, which means you’re enemies.”

“You’re our enemies, too.”

Tobirama glared at the line of trees ahead. “That’s not the point. If our parents found out- that’s one of the reasons I try to follow Hashirama, so our father thinks we’re just playing together. I don’t want him to get into trouble.”

Even as he spoke, he was unsure if that was the truth. Of course, he loved Hashirama, but knowing that what he was doing was so wrong… He wanted to tell Father. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t hurt Hashirama like that.

“I doubt _our_ father much cares what we’re doing”, the boy sighed. “As long as we work hard in our training sessions. He hasn’t cared much since our brothers died.”

There was a long pause. Some thickets of grass brushed Tobirama’s legs as he stepped around them, tickling him, and he turned his back on the stranger for the first time, lost in thought. They had lost family too. He thought that maybe he understood, just a little bit, how Hashirama could make friends with someone outside of the clan. It didn’t make it any less wrong, though.

Breaking the silence, the boy said; “My name is Izuna, by the way.”

Tobirama considered telling him a fake name. But he had already told him Hashirama’s name. Any damage that would cause had already been done. “I’m Tobirama.”

Izuna seemed to relax, shoulders sloping and head tilting. “You said you follow them to practice chakra natures?”

“Sensing them, yes.”

“I know a few people in my clan who can sense chakra like that. My aunt was really good at it, apparently.”

Looking away from the boy’s wide black eyes, Tobirama began walking more swiftly in the direction of Hashirama and Izuna’s brother. Izuna almost ran to catch up.

When the boy was in step with him, Tobirama continued; “My father tells me I’m a natural. He says I’m even better than most adults he knows. My brother isn’t even as good as me.” And that was a rare thing.

“Can you tell me how to do it?”

He hesitated. “No.”

Izuna glared. It wasn’t the brutal glare of an enemy, though. More the pouting look Tobirama used to get from Itama. “Why not?”

“I can’t tell anyone how to do it.” Tobirama watched the path ahead and struggled to think. “It’s like… When you stand near someone, and you can feel their breathing and the warmth coming from their body.” He thought about snuggling in close to his mother, hearing her heartbeat. “Except it’s different for each person. I guess it’s more like a smell, that way. Each person is different. Only it’s not a smell, it’s the feeling.”

Tobirama finally glanced around as he stepped over a log to see Izuna staring at him with his mouth forming a small circle.

Izuna asked; “Can you feel my chakra?”

It was light blue and grey, fluttering like a sparrow’s wings. “Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Of course.”

Izuna tilted his head, hair flopping over again. “Then how come I could sneak up on you?”

“I was focusing on my brother’s.” Tobirama paused for a moment and then raised a hand to halt Izuna as well. “He’s at the river. I was right.”

They continued walking.

“You can sense that from here?” Izuna hugged his arms around his chest and trailed behind Tobirama as he made a small turn, taking a more direct route.

“I know my brother’s well.”

Izuna was seemingly impressed into silence. Tobirama smirked to himself. He knew chakra sensing wasn’t anything new, but he was particularly gifted in it. He sometimes wondered if there was some reason behind it; if, one day, he would have to find his brother. That wouldn’t be too hard. Hashirama’s chakra was the strongest he’d ever felt.

Izuna spoke up again: “I was following Madara for a while. But then… I lost track of him. I ended up on the other side of the river. I must have gone around him somehow.” He hugged himself tighter. “I wish I could do that. Track people, like you.”

Tobirama wasn’t interested in this boy’s wishes, and he held up a hand once more before placing a finger to his lips. He could hear the faint sounds of the river, drained to a trickle by the recent Summer heat. They were close now.

Sure enough, his brother’s full, rich laugh echoed disembodied through the trees.

The two of them walked up into the trees- Tobirama was amazed at how easily it seemed to come to Izuna; he was almost as good as Tobirama himself- and they watched their brothers from a safe distance, hidden in the leaves.

He would never have been able to guess that Izuna and Madara were brothers by their chakras alone. Izuna’s light and cool colors shifted with nowhere near as much strength as Madara’s. The elder brother’s chakra was a deep purple-red and pulsated like dark blood pumping fresh from a fatal wound. Yet even Madara’s faltered into nothingness when besides the blinding, magnetic pull of Hashirama’s. Tobirama found it hard to be near him, sometimes. Luckily his chakra was calm now, lazily dragging and pulling as the moon pulled the tides, and much easier to handle.

After several minutes of watching, it became apparent that Hashirama and Madara weren’t training today. They were simply sat on the far bank of the river, skipping stones. Anything they might have been saying was lost to the wind; Tobirama caught the occasional burst of laughter- his brother’s, of course- but that was all.

Izuna nudged Tobirama’s arm and jerked his head, indicating to him to climb down, and they reached the forest floor together.

“They’re not doing anything”, said Izuna. He looked disappointed, slumping his shoulders.

“Yeah. Sometimes they just sit and talk.”

“That’s boring.” Izuna sighed and shrugged. “I guess I should go home, then.”

“Alright. I will too.” Tobirama folded his arms and puffed his chest out. “If you don’t want your brother to know you were here, you should take a wide berth of the river.”

Nodding, Izuna’s lips turned up in the hint of a smile. “Thank you, Tobirama. I don’t know if I’ll see you again, so- goodbye!”

He rolled his eyes but returned the nod. He wanted to wish Izuna good luck in the battles to come, as he did when parting from the other boys at home, but then what if they faced each other in the future? Tobirama remained silent and felt his stomach tighten as he watched Izuna turn to go. He didn’t even know which clan Izuna and Madara came from. He was sure he would have no problem handing out retribution to them for any attack they made on the Senju, but what about Hashirama? What if they fought another clan and then, in the middle of battle, Hashirama found himself face to face with his friend? His stomach began to hurt more and more the longer he thought about it.

In any case, he would follow Hashirama again sometime, soon. He would find out where Madara came from. Perhaps this was something that could be used to their advantage, gaining inside knowledge of another clan. Perhaps that was what Hashirama was doing, and Tobirama didn’t even realize it. The pain in his stomach turned to fire; why would Hashirama not include him in such an endeavor? Tobirama could help. He shook his head. No, best to wait and watch. Find out what Hashirama was really up to with Madara. Keep a distance, and ensure his brother was safe.

He turned for home. Izuna had better hope that he and Tobirama didn’t run into each other again, or Tobirama would get his own back, and knock him down.

*

The clearing where Tobirama’s team trained had been used for such activities since the village was founded and, as such, the grass had been worn away, leaving exposed dirt that got under nails and into scratches in its stead.

More desperate noises and grunts reach him as he approaches, growing louder. They were training hard. That was good.

After a moment of deliberation, Tobirama decides he will linger in the bushes for a while to watch them. If he emerged immediately, they may try to cover up various injuries that still ailed them, or perhaps over-exert themselves trying to win his approval. Not Hiruzen, of course. That boy was gifted and, as with not enough of the other gifted men Tobirama had known in his life, he didn’t feel the need to show it off, demonstrating his marvelous abilities with little fanfare.

He squats behind a bush in silence, but it felt a rather undignified place for a Hokage to watch his students from. They were all so enthralled in their miniature battle, so he was able to clamber to his feet and look for a better spot unnoticed. As he stands, he stretches his calf and winces. The twinge of pain was like someone stuck a needle in his leg and dragged up.

Shifting his weight, Tobirama reaches the nearest tree and peers around.

The battle is a frenzied melee to the untrained eye but to Tobirama, who knows his team so well, it is easy to spot the patterns. Hiruzen weaves effortlessly around the attacks Homura launches at him, light as the breeze, careful never to counter too harshly. Koharu and Torifu fight together against Danzou and Kagami, a partnership that is always dangerous, swapping opponents in their brutal dance every couple of minutes. They use few jutsus: It appears to be mostly hand to hand combat and weapons training. Or, at least, it was hand to hand combat. Koharu is the only one using a knife, and Tobirama is not quite sure whether that had been one of the established rules of the sparring session or not.

As he watches, it is also apparent the small missteps in their patterns. They all seemed to be holding back around Danzou, pulling their blows due to the injuries that still affect him. Koharu was favoring one side, too, consistently pushing off with her right leg when she launched into attacks and twisting like a snake to always keep her opponent away from her left.

Otherwise it is business as usual. These patterns may have been familiar, yet Tobirama was sure that a lesser team would not have been able to keep up. Their training had grown more serious, more desperate, during the past several months while the tensions ramped up even among the civilians. They had to be prepared for another ambush.

Tobirama’s eyes flicker over each of them; young lives waiting to be snatched away. They had been lucky, last time. Danzou had survived, thanks to their wonderful medical team, led by Mito’s old friend Saori Yakushi, a willowy viper of a woman considered a pioneer by many and a lunatic by others.

But, Tobirama feared, they may not be so lucky next time.

*

The moon had shone down on a night that was as clear and calms as nights always seemed to be, just before chaos erupted.

Drawing his cloak about him, Tobirama walked the village without even a breath betraying his presence. Hiruzen stepped by his side, his own hood pulled low.

The silence of the village was welcome, after the past couple of weeks. Criticism after criticism of Tobirama’s handling of the situation between the villages had been leveled at him. He dearly missed his brother’s council. As good as Hiruzen was, he was not Hashirama.

It was partly his brother’s death that had caused the tension to rise, Tobirama knew. He didn’t particularly trust the other villages, and they didn’t trust him. Not the way they had trusted Hashirama.

Tomorrow Tobirama was to sign the document declaring the commencement of the war. That the council had advised him of the need for such a document was ridiculous, in his opinion: War was war and peace was peace, documents be damned. But the act would mean the beginning of a turbulent period of invasions and deaths, unlike that which the village had seen since Tobirama was a far younger man.

In truth he couldn’t help the feeling that, in the morning, he would be signing his own death sentence.

The moonlight was parted by the shadow of a small wooden house.

“Well, all is quiet”, Tobirama nodded to his protégé, more stiffly than usual. “We had both better rest. Who knows what tomorrow shall bring?”

Hiruzen ran a hand through his light brown hair, now longer and less manageable than it had been since he was a child. Tobirama recognized the similarly childish look of guilt that flashed in his eyes and prompted him.

“Hiruzen?”

“Ah- Sir, the thing is…”

He glanced up, as though expecting more prompting.

Tobirama didn’t grant it; instead, he watched and waited.

Eventually, Hiruzen sighed. “Some of us are going out for drinks. It’s our last night of freedom, you know? And, well, we booked a table for six, but Koharu dropped out, she’s sick, so would you like to join?”

Tobirama’s first thought was a reactive one of pure shock: The children were old enough to drink? When had this happened, without his noticing?

But surely, he thought, if they were old enough to die, they were old enough to drink.

Hiruzen watched him a little anxiously, a look similar to the one Tobirama often saw when he watched Tsunade and her little teammates training together.

“One drink.” Tobirama raised his chin. Hiruzen tried to school his face into a neutral expression, yet his eyes gleamed. “Wait here just a moment, and I will join you.”

“Of course, sensei.”

Tobirama walked into his home, careful to keep his tread light- Hiruzen would surely be listening at the door- as he moved through the house and into his half-empty bedroom. Standing at the low table by the bed, he removed his head plate and set it down. He ruffled his own hair. He didn’t care much for looks but going out in public with half of his white mop flattened and the other half sticking straight up would be undignified, would make him look like little more than a teenager.

He snorted and struggled to keep the sound low. Tobirama Senju, going out drinking, with his pupils. How hilarious. Mito would laugh when she told him. Hiruzen’s father, too, old Sasuke.

Stepping outside, Hiruzen still had the same gleam in his eye. Perhaps he had heard.

If he had, he didn’t say anything. Nor did he comment on the missing head plate; they moved through the night, Tobirama dropping back to allow the younger man to take the lead.

They drew up alongside a small tavern. Tobirama knew this place. He knew most places in the village and, as with this one, had been there when it had first been established. He could recall long nights drinking there, with Hashirama and others long since lost to time.

How comforting, in a way, to know that the young still laughed and occupied themselves there. How haunting, to think that their laughter may cease as his friends’ once ceased and that this place would harbor ghosts for them as it did for himself.

As if they understood, the room fell silent when Tobirama entered. Giving him time to visualize walls lined with the ghosts of those he had lost.

Once those ghosts had faded into the wallpaper, Tobirama quickly spotted their small group: They were nestled in a corner, in a booth adjacent to the bar. Homura was sniggering at something behind a glass held in front of his face and, as Tobirama watched, he raised an arm to his mouth to hide his amusement. Torfui stared about at the silent figures in the tavern with mild amusement, and Kagami and Danzou were sitting close together next to the counter with their backs to the door.

He quickly made his way across to join them, Hiruzen at his heels.

When they approached, Hiruzen stopped laughing and the group paused, looking at each other with serious faces.

Then Torifu snorted, and they simultaneously burst out laughing.

Tobirama permitted himself a smile.

“It’s good to see you, sensei”, Danzou slurred as he clumsily patted Tobirama’s arm, scooting away from Kagami- and shoving Homura further up the bench in the process- to make room for the newcomers to sit down.

The bald man behind the bar turned to the group expectantly.

“One for me and one for my associate”, Hiruzen said, sounding almost like a grown adult for once, as he slid into place beside Danzou. Tobirama raised an eyebrow at him, and his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“It’s on the house”, the owner of the tavern replied as he made to set two glasses onto the counter, throwing a cautious smile at Tobirama.

Would he still be smiling after the announcement tomorrow?

The Hokage sank into his spot besides Hiruzen, and Kagami sat back down on his other side. A mere minute later, a cool drink was in his hand, condensation dripping down over his fingers, and he was drawn back into the ongoing conversation.

Torifu was prodding at Homura’s side. “Just admit you like her.”

“I’m not-” Homura lowered his voice, apparently having realized he was speaking too loudly. “I’m not in love with Koharu, okay?”

Hiruzen snickered. “You do anything she asks you to do.”

“She’s got him wrapped around her little finger”, said Danzou.

“It’s sad, really.”

“I’m not, we’re just friends.” Homura’s voice grew more shrill by the second.

Torifu teased; “If you don’t admit it, then you have to drink.”

Tobirama’s lips tweaked upwards. These were the kind of games he and his friends used to play, too.

Trying his best to look as serious as possible, Tobirama folded his hands together on the table and leaned forwards, speaking in a low voice. “Homura.”

Homura wiped at his glasses with his sleeve. The earnest tone must have worked, because Homura's voice trembled a little as he replied; “Yes, Hokage-sama?”

“It is okay to admit such things, in the company of your fellow soldiers.” Tobirama cleared his throat. “It may even be wiser to do so when she is not here, perhaps.”

Hiruzen and Danzou laughed even harder than before, clutching onto each other.

“We’re friends”, Homura repeated in a strangled voice.

“Of course”, said Tobirama.

Eventually, the laughter died down.

Seemingly wanting to shift the focus onto somebody else, Homura’s eyes darted about the group before they settled on Kagami, who remained silent to his right.

“Were you the one who pulled that prank on Hashirama when we were kids, and Tobi- Hokage-sama’s back was turned?”

Tobirama chuckled to himself; he already knew the answer to that one, and so had Hashirama. He felt a small pang, wishing his brother could be here to see this.

Kagami’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. “Which one?”

“You know the one.”

“With the feathers?”

“Yep.”

Kagami gave a soft laugh. “Yes, that was me.” He took a small sip of his drink and added; “But Torifu helped me.”

Torifu slammed one fist on the table, indignant. “Liar.”

“I think you’re the liar there, Torifu”, Hiruzen cooed. “I can always tell when you’re lying.”

“How?”

“Your eyebrow twitches.”

Tobirama’s lips turned up in a smirk. He had never noticed that previously, yet now he could recall seeing it in the past. He tried to think of which times that had happened, to know what Torifu had lied to him about.

“Well I’m just insulted you didn’t include me”, said Danzou.

“You probably would have tattled to Tobirama.” Torifu nudged him with his elbow as he spoke.

They drank in silence for the span of a dozenl heartbeats. The bar remained quiet, and most of the groups that had stared when they initially entered had withdrawn, muttering and chuckling low amongst themselves. The scent of alcohol lay overtop of the crisp night air.

Finally, Danzou turned to Kagami. “It’s your turn to ask the question, now.”

The rest of the group peered at Kagami.

Tobirama caught the sullen look on the man’s face as he stared down at the drink cradled between his hands, just prior to raising his eyes to meet his sensei’s and speaking in a hushed tone that was still easy to hear over the low din in the background.

“How many members of my clan have you killed?”

A deathly hush fell: over their small band, over the men drinking at the bar, over the groups hovering nearby to listen in on the conversation, over the entire room.

“Kagami!”, Danzou burst out.

Tobirama felt Hiruzen place a hand on his arm.

“You… Don’t have to answer that, Tobirama-sensei.”

Tobirama waved him away without breaking his eye contact with Kagami.

_What was the boy thinking?_

His eyes were black pools of nothingness, impossible to read.

Well, Tobirama supposed there was no reason to lie.

“Personally? One.” Through his orders and strategies, that number was far higher. He had severely injured many to the point where they had been easy to pick off by his men after battle, and there were likely times when, in a flurry of a blizzard he had called forth, men had perished without his noticing. But only one Uchiha had died by his hand.

He searched Kagami’s face for further questions, for further answers, only the boy simply nodded and raised his glass to his lips. His face was impassive. His chakra, so familiar, was unresponsive to his probing. The blacks and reds, customary of the Uchiha clan, seemed to form an impenetrable wall. 

The silence continued.

Tobirama felt strangely empty as he lifted his own glass and took a drink. The children, who had always looked up to him, now begin to rebel, on the night he most needed their support. Of course, it had to be that night.

And yet he did not regret his decision to attend their little party. Now he could be prepared for a potential betrayal, rather than remain in ignorance. How many nights had they spoken of him, this way, behind his back? Was it only Kagami? Or others, as well?

To break the dragging silence, Tobirama announced; “Now it’s my turn to ask the question.” He gave an exaggerated stretch and turned to Hiruzen. “Out of your three students, which is your favorite?”

Hiruzen jolted, as if he hadn’t been expecting the question, and spilled half of his drink on the table. “I… I don’t know if I really have a favorite.”

“I’m sure that you do. I won’t be offended if it isn’t my niece.”

“No, I love all three of them equally.”

Tobirama sighed and turned to the rest of the group. They remained watching with pale, somber faces.

“What was the punishment if somebody fails to answer?”

“They have to finish their drink”, murmured Homura. The boy looked positively ill.

Hiruzen had already finished the drink, in two gulps, in the time Tobirama turned back to face him. The rest of the group laughed a collective unnerved laugh.

Tobirama did not stay long after that.

Once he had finished his drink, he took his leave, not meeting Kagami’s eyes as his student stepped out of the booth for him to pass and insisting to Hiruzen that he did not need an escort for the short walk home. Let them continue their merriment, on this one night at least.

Outside, he looked up at the moon in all of its glory, shining brightly on the town. Where had that question come from? Kagami had always been… Good. The best of the Uchiha. _Was there something that had prompted him to turn so suddenly?_

He forced his nerves to relax, his stomach to unclench. It surely was not a conspiracy. He knew Kagami, and the boy would never… Perhaps it was the drink. In either case, he would watch Kagami more closely from now on.

As he turned down a street to head home, his mind in other places, Tobirama spotted a figure stood ahead of him. Strangely, it was stood still in the center of the dark street. Almost as if it were waiting.

Tobirama reached for his shuriken, however when he approached the shadow pivoted towards him, and he found himself frozen on the spot.

The youth’s eyes were red, with black dots circling inside of them. Every other part of him looked to be in black and white; alabaster skin, midnight black hair, dark shapeless clothing. His chakra was the same; swirling hazy black and white with gray stabbing out now and then. He moved swiftly, forcing Tobirama back up against the sidewall of a store.

“You are leading this village into ruins, and the Uchiha clan will not support you”, the man hissed. The scent of alcohol was on his breath. “This is not what Konoha wants. This is not what your brother would have wanted.”

Tobirama broke his gaze and stared down to where the man’s hand was gripping the front of his cloak. He didn’t appear to have a weapon, besides his Sharingan. He began to calculate a dozen ways to lose the man's grip, before settling on the most simple as his first option. “Let go.”

And then the Uchiha was ripped away from him.

“Sir, sir, are you okay?”

Homura was by his side, frantically looking him up and down.

Tobirama shrugged him off. “I’m fine.” He had faced far worse than drunk, unarmed Uchiha.

Torifu and Danzou had the man in their grip, each one holding an arm, forcing him down to his knees. The man gasped for breath as they twisted his arms back. His dark hair hung across his face.

Hiruzen and Kagami dropped in out of nowhere, like spiders descending on invisible threads. Tobirama blinked. The fact that Kagami had also come…

His student met his gaze and, with a small nod, threw Tobirama one of the hand signs he had made his team learn: _All clear. He’s alone._

The man was still raving with venom in his words, however, the previous anger had since faded. He seemed slightly unsure of himself as he spoke now. “You’ve maligned my family through your reforms. The Uchiha are suffering and it is all because of you.”

Tobirama met his stare unrepentant. “If your family feels isolated, it is because they have isolated themselves. It has little to do with me.”

Kagami was leaning forward, peering at the young man, and he whispered; “… Mihiro?”

Mihiro reeled, tugging at the grasp Torifu and Danzou had on him. His pupils darted about and he changed tactic, fixing on Kagami. He spat; “You’re a traitor! A traitor to our clan!”

Kagami met his stare with a fixed mouth. “Better a traitor than scum like you. Lurking in the shadows, prepared to attack a man at night on his way home.”

“Kagami”, Torifu murmured, and Kagami drew back beside Homura to watch, his face hard as slate.

Tobirama didn’t stay to hear the rest. He walked away without sparing Mihiro, who continued to spit angered objections, a backward glance.

Hiruzen dropped in beside him wordlessly and, as before, they trod the paths of the village without a sound. Tobirama didn’t need the protection, he thought with a wry smile, but it was nice to see that they cared.

“You know”, Hiruzen began, speaking under his breath without looking in Tobirama’s direction. His eyes, fixed on the street ahead, glinted under the moonlight. “Kagami may be an Uchiha, but he’s one of us. We can trust him.”

Tobirama didn’t respond on their walk to his house and he didn’t respond when Hiruzen left him at the door.


	3. Shadows

The undergrowth was thick as Tobirama moved, so thick that the sun was only visible as brief flickers through the saplings around him and he could feel his breath cloying in the air around him.

Somewhere far ahead, his brother and Madara were by the river. His brother’s pull, the lull and drag, felt somewhat softer from this distance, and there was a strange undercurrent to it, as though it was flowing in time with the trickle of the stream they played by. Tobirama had felt the influence of the environment on people’s chakra previously, yet this felt more harmonious than any other he had known. The symbiosis between human and nature was slick, congruous. Madara, on the other hand, stood out more than ever before, his chakra spiking out of time, like the heartbeat of someone with a serious illness. It was as if it were at war with everything around it.

Tobirama let his movement slow, feeling his head spin slightly. It was too warm, and he had lost any desire to draw closer to that nausea-inducing cloud. He took several deep breaths as his feet rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.

He found himself pushing out of the undergrowth, into a small clearing, where he drew to a halt. He sucked in a gasp of sharp air and focused on the surrounding woodland, attempting to ground himself.

Birds moved overhead as he closed his eyes, chirruping and flapping their wings with soft whooshing noises.

It took him a moment to realise that he could feel their wings flapping, too. Close. _Izuna._

Staring at the cluster of bushes the oscillating originated from, he said; “You can come out.”

Izuna emerged, shaking himself down and grinning a guilty, childish grin.

Tobirama chose not to acknowledge him further, but he allowed the smaller boy to fall in step with him as they walked in silence. The air once again became cloying, however, Tobirama did his best to pretend the humidity did not affect him.

They moved slowly once more, far enough away from their brothers that Tobirama didn’t bother to complain about the noises Izuna made as he trailed his hands across the bark of trees and through various vines they passed.

One of Izuna’s hands had a small cut on it, already half-faded into a pale scar; probably from training with his knife. Tobirama shrunk his own hands back into his sleeves, hoping Izuna wouldn’t notice the scars there.

“Are they at the river again?”, Izuna asked. His voice was as thin and breathless as Tobirama remembered.

“Yes. Just a little further upstream,” he replied confidently, weaving around the other side of a trunk before re-joining Izuna.

Izuna smiled. “Wait until Madara awakens his Sharingan, then you won’t be able to sneak-”

Tobirama kicked him, knocking him off of his feet.

Izuna landed hard on his side, making a small grunt of pain. He propped himself up on one arm, staring at Tobirama. “Wha…?”

They remained frozen for a couple of seconds, staring at each other. Tobirama felt the ground sway beneath him. _This kid was an Uchiha?_

Izuna was on his feet so quickly Tobirama didn’t even register the movement. One moment he was sprawled on the floor, the next stood a few feet in front of him.

“You’re a _Senju_ , aren’t you?” He threw the words like a lash.

He took a step closer, moving dangerously into Tobirama’s personal space.

Tobirama raised both hands and shoved him away.

Surprisingly, Izuna stood firm, his skinny frame taut under Tobirama’s palms. He raised his own hands and pushed back, yet so weakly that it did not affect Tobirama at all.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Even the birds seemed to have fallen silent around them. Something cold clawed its way up Tobirama’s spine, one inch at a time.

He could read Izuna’s eyes, which were tracing his arms and legs and waiting for a single flicker to indicate muscle movement. Waiting for him to make a move, give an opening. There was a single bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. It caught in his eyebrow.

Izuna’s eyes met his.

And then, without a word, Tobirama turned on his heels and fled. From the noises of feet pounding into the dirt, retreating, Izuna had clearly reflected his own movements.

Did Hashirama know? Did _Madara_ know? Surely not; if they did, they would not have continued meeting. Hashirama would have killed any member of the Uchiha he came across, avenging Itama and Kawarama, the same as Tobirama would. _Except he hadn't killed Izuna._

Tobirama’s heart was in his throat as he skidded into their camp, breathing hard around the dust that his feet kicked up and which stuck in his throat.

When he reached their home- _safety_ \- father was knelt by the window.

Butsuma turned and arched one eyebrow in his son’s direction, his long hair laying listless over one shoulder.

“Tobirama… Why is your brother not with you?”

“Father, I… “ Tobirama hesitated, his mouth dry and empty as a dessert. He wasn’t sure what to think, how to feel. “I have something to tell you.”

He didn’t want to betray Hashirama. But now that the other child knew… He would surely tell his family too, and then Hashirama would be in danger.

“Father, I…” He tried again. His tongue was so dry. The words couldn’t seem to come.

“Yes?”, Butsuma asked, and the fear in his eyes was the fear of a father who had already lost two children. It was that fear which made Tobirama blurt out his next words.

“Hashirama is okay. He’s not injured. I don’t think so, anyway. But he has made a friend.”

“A friend?”

“A friend of the Uchiha clan.”

In a flash of movement Butsuma was on his feet, a knife drawn; not to any unseen or hidden enemy, but to his son. The blade hovered over Tobirama. It glistened at the light falling through the flap of the tent.

Tobirama tried very hard not to whimper.

“Do not speak such lies”, his father spat. “Your brother is not a fool; he knows what the Uchiha are capable of.”

Tears pricked, ridiculously, at Tobirama’s eyes, the childish tears of one treated unfairly and disbelieved even though they were telling the truth. His father’s looming form blurred slightly.

“I’m not a liar, father, I’m not!”, he protested. “I saw them! I don’t know if Hashirama knows, but he is an Uchiha!”

The knife was withdrawn. Butsuma looked about himself, checking over one shoulder and then the other, and then his shadowed gaze focused and narrowed.

He asked; “Where are they?”

“By the river. I can show you.” Even though his father had calmed, Tobirama’s heart beat even harder than before, churning his stomach with each pulse.

Butsuma sank back down to his knees. “We should wait for Hashirama to come home.”

“What are you going to do.”

After a moment’s silence, father tilted his face upward and closed his eyes. “I shall speak with him.

Rage touched Tobirama’s chest once more. He had just given his father vital information and father wouldn’t even share his plan with him? He balled his fists and bit at his tongue.

Fear became mingled with the anger as the quiet drew on. Would Hashirama be in serious trouble for this? If any serious repercussions came about, that would be Tobirama’s fault. Should he have told father, without speaking to Hashirama first?

But then he thought of Izuna, who was likely doing the same thing with his father. If the Uchiha wanted to use this against them, they had to be prepared.

“We can find a way to turn this to our advantage”, said Butsuma, pulling Tobirama from his own thoughts.

Tobirama looked at the small smile on his father’s face. Butsuma’s eyes were open now, still narrowed, yet looking down at him. He smiled at his father in return. Yes. This was the chance to get revenge for the family that had been so cruelly taken from them. His actions today could help their clan win this war, once and for all. Tobirama felt a flush of pride turning his cheeks red.

Later on, listening as Hashirama pleaded with their father, Tobirama couldn’t help but maliciously enjoy it. Just a little.

*

A knife whistles past Tobirama’s head and hits a tree with a low _thunk_. He doesn’t flinch.

Hiruzen and Danzou are exchanging blows, and as Hiruzen raised his arms in a block, he pivots and begins to kick. Upon delivering the blow, one which sends Danzou scrambling back two paces, he said, low and calm; “Sensei, I did not realize you were watching.”

Tobirama straightens up, rising from the bushes.

The rest of the group immediately pause and turn towards him, fights forgotten. They no longer bow or kneel before him as some other, mainly older members of the village who remember the old ways do, but whether that is because of their youth or their familiarity with him Tobirama cannot say.

“Sensei”, Homura mutters, and the others echo him.

“Are you going to join us?”, Koharu asks, her eyes bright.

“Not today. I am still healing, remember?” His calf flexes involuntarily. “Mito would have my head.”

A couple of the youths, now loosely gathered in front of him, snicker at that, although their eyes betray their disappointment.

“Stay and watch at least?”, Danzou, always bold, asks, before remembering himself. “If you wish, that is, sir?”

Tobirama dips his head graciously. “Very well. I will continue to watch. But… I’m sitting in the shade.”

He lumbers over to where the grass is still dewy, untouched by the morning sun, and sits down, slumping in the shadows.

In the field, the games of war continue with no further comment.

*

The funeral had barely finished, and several large groups had already clustered in the main square, awaiting a speech or announcement. Whispers of war and high tensions stalked every alley of the village.

Tobirama drew his cloak about himself. Appropriately enough, the day was dark, the sky heavily clouded.

He stood by the steps of a small stage, its wood silken and slicked with recent rain. Mito, on stage, was finishing her own speech about her late husband. Tobirama had been trying very hard to blot out the words; he had done his own grieving days before, as had Mito and her family. That conciliatory tone was for the village, not themselves.

A muttering nearby drew his interest.

“I cannot help but be concerned, though.”

“It is troubling. I have heard that Sunagakure are on the move. Supposedly they attempted to steal the jinchuriki of Kumogakure.”

A third voice. “Those are just rumours, though. If it were true, surely we would have been-”

Tobirama fixed the gossiping group of shinobi with a sharp glare, raising his head so that they could see his eyes under the hat, and they froze and directed their attention back to the stage.

He supposed couldn’t blame them for their concern. He was concerned for his village, also. Tobirama prayed that what he was about to do would be the right choice for all of them.

Applause signaled Mito’s closing words, and she stepped off the stage, passing close to where Tobirama stood.

Her voice low as she moved by him, she murmured; “This is not what he would have wanted.”

Tobirama shook his head. “No.” His voice rasped. “But we have to protect the village. Protect you, too.”

Her vulpine eyes narrowed. “I can take care of myself.” Yet, after a long moment, she sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder, and he saw for the first time that those eyes were red from crying. “I can see that there is no way of avoiding this now. So, I will be behind you. But if anything happens to my children… So soon after Hashirama… I will not be happy.”

“This is so that your children and grandchildren can have a future.”

Mito hummed, although her gaze suddenly seemed far away. “I think I had better go and see my son.”

She walked away without looking at him again.

He took the stage slowly, so slowly that by the time he reached the centre several groups had broken off of the crowd and departed. His robes seemed to drag heavily across the floor; he hated wearing the things, only ever put them on for formal occasions such as this.

Among the populace of the village, Tobirama spotted his team. Their faces were round, betraying this youth, and marred with loss.

Hiruzen stood with a hand on each of his teammates’ shoulders. Homura hung his head, only a crest of brown hair visible. Koharu was pretending to be unaffected, as was often her way, yet her eyes darted about, and her pale creamy chakra was flickering as fast as her shallow breathing.

As he watched, she turned to another boy in a small cluster beside them and spoke.

The team of Danzou, Kagami and Torifu. He had watched them grow, trained his team with theirs often, and knew them well enough. Danzou stood proud and tall, much like his grandmother, the proud matriarch of the Shimura clan. He was close friends with Hiruzen; Tobirama had often chanced upon them sparring together in the forest. Torifu was another youth who already cut an intimidating figure, with his wild hair and broad chest. He had more raw physical strength in his teenage years than many of the adult men of the village. And Kagami, slighter than the other two, but not weak. For all he thought of the Uchiha, Tobirama would not consider one of their members weak. Each of them had impressed him in some way or another, even Kagami.

Scanning the crowd, the features which marked Kagami apart also stood out in several others, all gathered together at the edge of the throng. The sharp features, the raven hair. And, unlike Kagami, unhappy expressions. Their chakras emanated something akin to fear. Their hard-nosed leader had asked him what would happen to them now that Hashirama, always staunchly on their side, was dead and replaced by a brother who had made little secret of his disdain for the Uchiha.

He looked away from them. Let them find out, in time, what their own actions would bring upon them. One way or the other.

Tobirama cleared his throat.

“These are indeed uncertain times”, he began. There was no point avoiding such topics or waxing sentimental; Mito and the other speakers had just spent well over an hour talking about the devastation that his brother’s loss had brought upon the village. “Tensions have been rising, and we must rise to meet those who would seek to do us and our village harm. In the coming months, all of our elite shinobi will be asked to do more for their home than ever before. We must remain strong throughout this.”

Quiet hung above them with the clouds.

Tobirama continued. “In particular, all shinobi will receive extra training, and there will be four divisions of our most capable warriors, three of which will be led by Isamu Morino, Akio Hatake, and Shirou Aburame.” He nodded to each of them in turn. They had been strategically chosen; from clans not too large but ones that did not have many extreme rivalries or conflicts, and which were generally well-looked upon. They were also capable and loyal nin. “I will head the fourth division, which will be comprised of my own students and potentially a few members of another team, in order to lead the war effort personally.”

Several heads in the crowd lifted at that, most prominently among the divisions of the clans used to having higher status. Higher-ranking members nudged their children. Tobirama wondered what Hashirama would have made of that.

“The lists of those who will be a part of the war effort shall be finalised tonight and available tomorrow on the notice board by the village council office. If your name is not present and you would wish to volunteer, present yourself at the office in the morning to sign up.” He took a deep breath, staring over the silent crowd. From up there, all of the faces appeared to blur into one. “For all of those who do so, I thank you. As shinobi of Konoha, we will make it through this, but we can only do so together.”

There was little fanfare following his remarks, simply solemn acceptance. Tobirama nodded to his village and then turned his back, descending the steps. The first mutters were beginning to rise in the air when he retreated into his office. He did not slow down or turn back. There were still decisions to be made, tonight.

The first thing he did, as soon as he sat down, was to remove his hat. The one that marked him as the Hokage. He only wore it for official appearances, unlike his brother, who never took it off; admittedly, that was likely because he frequently forgot he was wearing it.

Tobirama turned it over in his hands, inspected the underside. Despite the material draping down at the back, it was light. Though, at that moment, he felt its weight more than ever before.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

“Yes?”

The door creaked open a crack, and a pale face appeared in the entryway, curtained by dark hair. Kagami.

Tobirama leaned back in his chair and quirked an eyebrow at him.

The boy hesitated, one pale hand raised with his palm pressed against the wood, almost as though afraid of physical retribution should he step into the room. “Sir? May I come in?”

“You may.”

The boy walked to the centre of the room. He seemed smaller than ever, and Tobirama was once again reminded that this child would soon be on the frontlines of a bloody war, the likes of which he had never seen. Kagami had been in skirmishes and small battles, but he and his friends had not been raised among the constant spillage of blood as the elders of the village had. Would it scare them?

When he failed to speak, Tobirama prompted; “Yes, Kagami?”

With that, the Uchiha dropped to his knees and hung his head.

Tobirama stared in confusion. He did not know what he had expected; perhaps a discussion regarding battle strategies or patrols, a query concerning training, or maybe, in the back of his mind, Tobirama thought that perhaps somebody had felt compelled to offer their condolences for the loss of his brother. Not whatever this was.

His head still lowered, the boy finally spoke.

“I would like you to consider my team. At least, consider Torifu and Danzou. I do not wish the blight of my name to hold them back. And, if you would give me the chance, I would prove to you that the Uchiha are loyal to this village. Loyal to you.”

Tobirama stared at the black crest of hair, at the pale hands desperately clawed against the hard wooden floor.

In truth, he had already been considering Kagami’s team- had actually been leaning in favor of accepting each of the three as his subordinates- but he could also not deny that his hesitance over the decision was largely a result of Kagami’s birthright.

Kagami continued.

“I know how some of my family speak about me behind my back. They believe that I am somehow in your favour and the favour of the other village elders. That I act as though I am better than them. I know some of the treasonous words they have spoken.” The boy finally raised his head, two black pools shining as they came into view. “I also know they have been treated unfairly and have a right to be bitter. You have been harsh in your words to them in the past. Certain parts of the village have shunned and mistrusted them.”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes and Kagami once more bowed his head.

The Hokage spoke quietly; “You speak of how they have misrepresented you and then you defend them?”

“They have misrepresented my actions as you have misrepresented theirs. If you have me on your team… That can change.”

Tobirama said nothing.

A heavy silence hung. He heard Kagami take a shaky breath before continuing.

“I am asking you for the chance to show the rest of the village that we are good. That we care about what happens to Konoha. And I want my people to see that playing an active part in the village community, actually interacting rather than observing from the periphery, will benefit us all. And I will personally strive to change your mind about us, Lord Second. But, if that is not possible, I would like to at least have the chance to change the mindset of mistrust that both the Uchiha and the village have been shrouded in. And I believe the best way I can do that is by working alongside you. As part of your team.” Kagami swallowed, head still bowed. “That’s all, Lord Second.”

The boy departed the room, his gait somewhat unsure.

He had to admire Kagami's devotion, at least. Tobirama prayed that he never lost sight of that love which he felt for this village. And, he considered, slightly unsettled, that the boy seemed keenly aware of the prejudices he had perhaps not been attempting to overcome as hard as he should.

_Prove yourself_ , he found himself thinking. _Earn my trust._


	4. Battle

They had waited until just the right moment.

Tobirama relished the looks of surprise as he and his father leaped from the undergrowth, almost at exactly the same moment that Izuna appeared alongside his own father.

The river continued to roar between the two families, and on either side of the chasm, Hashirama and Madara were still watching each other. Tobirama barely had time to take in Madara's startled face with triumph before the sight of his brother's worried, pinched features reminded him of the task that lay ahead.

Everything seemed to move too quickly.

Tobirama and Izuna greeted each other faux-casually, keenly aware of their opponent's movements, reacting in time to each other. The blood was roaring in Tobirama's ears. This confrontation, in this small clearing with the wind blowing sharp against his face, could very well signal the beginning of all-out bloodshed.

Instead, there was conversation. Tobirama breathed deeply, focusing on his feet planted on the shore and the grip of his sword in his hands and the swirling chaos of the various chakra that threatened to engulf him. The words all seemed to blur together and bounce away from him: He forced his mind to hone in on their sharp tone, awaiting the order to attack with all his might.

The slight movements of the boy in front of him were also distracting. Izuna was his designated enemy, and their groups may have appeared evenly matched here, but Tobirama knew two things: That the Senju were stronger, but the Uchiha were sneakier. So long as he didn't look into the eyes of the Uchiha, he could be assured of victory.

In the end, no fighting was necessary, thanks to Hashirama and Madara. The conversation ended and they turned away without a backward glance. Tobirama felt a certain level of both disappointment and, oddly, relief.

Flying through the trees as fast as their feet would carry them, Father began to draw on ahead, so Tobirama let himself fall in line with Hashirama. He could see his brother was trying to keep his face composed, deadly serious, but his chakra was spiking so hard it was overwhelming.

He took a deep breath and moved closer. He couldn’t understand it, himself. Madara was the enemy. Why did Hashirama feel so sad about the exposal of that truth? Or was he perhaps sad for the same reasons that Tobirama and their father were, that they had not had the chance to avenge their family? Somehow, he didn’t quite believe that.

As they neared their settlement, they began to slow down, and Hashirama wrapped his arms around himself as though he was cold. It was a pose Tobirama was used to seeing: Often, at night, when the two of them were alone and waiting for father to come home, Hashirama would sit like that, besides the fire, staring into nothing.

Tobirama almost reached out to him. It wasn’t Hashirama’s fault, after all. It was clear he hadn’t known what that boy was. He didn’t really know why Hashirama was hurting, so upset over an Uchiha. It could have been that he was upset Tobirama had told on him. If that was the case, then he was just being childish. Telling had been the right thing to do. Who knew what kind of harm could have befallen Hashirama had they not intervened?

Yet if it had caused his brother to hurt like that...

Hashirama just needed to be tougher, Tobirama decided. And if he couldn’t be, Tobirama would have to be tough enough to protect the both of them.

He couldn’t afford to lose another brother, after all. He only had one left.

*

Once more, the small closure erupts with the sounds of grunts and knives slamming against trees.

Tobirama watches as his students throw themselves around with little caution, and struggles to place the emotion he is feeling. There is pride, certainly, yet also a lingering sense of impending doom.

Because, watching them, none of them are fully ready. A shinobi of Tobirama’s skill and experience- not that there were many, but there are others out there who match up to him, that is something he is fully aware of- could easily pick out their flaws, much as he could.

Hiruzen is not the problem; he never was. His moves are always executed perfectly. His only flaw is his kindness, something Tobirama has tried to expunge him of time and again. He generally showed little mercy to his enemies, however with those he held affection for or recognized something in, he could be hesitant.

Torifu is moving a little too hastily, relying on throwing his size around, and leaving gaps in his defense. Tobirama watches and pinpoints each place on his student’s body where he could strike to kill if he wished to do so. It makes him feel a little ill, knowing how easy it would be.

Koharu and Homura rely on each other too much and sometimes forget to watch their own back, instinctively believing that the other will be there to cover them.

Danzou is clearly still feeling the effects of his injury. He can’t properly lean forward into a stance, keeping his back ramrod straight. As Tobirama watches, Hiruzen goes to swipe at his head, but his timing is slow, slower than it should be, and the Hokage knows why. He wants to shake the boy. In battle, the enemy would not show Danzou such consideration.

Instead, he lets his eyes drift across to Kagami, who is also at a disadvantage in his fight, holding himself back. For he did not use the Sharingan, not in training. Tobirama thinks uneasily of that night, when he had wondered whether Kagami might betray him. Ridiculous, of course; the boy was part of his inner circle and, while occasionally being outspoken, had never betrayed his trust in actions. Still, not using the Sharingan is something that goes unsaid in practice. Whether that is for his student’s benefit or his own, Tobirama could not say. If he looks into Kagami’s eyes, glowing red, would he not simply see Madara, Izuna? Be reminded of some of the greatest losses of his life? And yet, utilizing the Sharingan is also incredibly important in battle: It is one of Konoha’s deadliest weapons, and to not test it would be impractical.

Glancing away, he catches Hiruzen’s eye and permits a smile. He knows the boy will likely be his successor, knows that it is assumed but not guaranteed, and wonders when will be the right time to discuss such a thing with him. With the increasing notion that he did not have much time left, he figured that it had better be soon.

*

No, just out of reach.

Not quite.

Homura was never going to catch him like that.

Tobirama almost let out a low whistle as Hiruzen twisted and, once again, slipped out of Homura’s grasp. Homura, never one to give up- and that was one of the things Tobirama admired about the teenager- began following his teammate in his escape.

Chasing after them, Tobirama moved silent and swiftly against the late evening sun, tracking his troublesome pupils’ chakra signatures. They moved with so little sound, that was the only trace of them he could find.

The two of them covered ground quickly. Worried that he may lose them in the denser regions of the forest, Tobirama sped up and, as he drew closer, caught the occasional inhale and rustling of leaves. A bird taking flight nearby caught his attention. On of them must have startled it.

There were sudden gasps, a bang, and then all movement stopped.

Tobirama paused for a second, mind racing, and then made his way towards the sounds, dropping to the forest floor and pushing through the foliage.

Ah. As he had suspected.

Hiruzen and Homura were looking sorry for themselves, hanging in a woven rope net, crushed together so closely that he could hardly tell which limb belonged to who.

Two pairs of round eyes darted across to him when he let out a low chuckle. This was something he had seen coming a mile away when Koharu had vanished shortly into their sparring session. The boys had apparently not had the same thought process.

He wondered warily how many traps were in the vicinity, and where his other pupil was hiding.

“Is the session over? Do I win?”, Koharu asked, springing from the bushes on the other side of the tree.

Tobirama sighed. She had revealed herself far too soon.

With that, the Hiruzen inside the net disappeared, replaced by a cloud of smoke, and the real Hiruzen was already behind Koharu, holding a knife to her throat.

“Not quite.” He snickered. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

Koharu pouted. “I can’t believe I did either. That’s the oldest trick in the book, Saru.”

Homura spoke up from his position still inside the net. “Hey, I got defeated by a clone. I think I suck the most.”

“You three”, Tobirama called, intensely enjoying the way they each jumped and looked over at him with guilt on their otherwise blank faces. “Stop bickering about which of you is the worst student and get back to work!”

“Can you let me down?”, Homura all but wailed. He thrashed inside the net for good measure.

“When Saru puts his knife down, sure”, Koharu spat back between gritted teeth.

She shouldn’t have said that, Tobirama thought, as Hiruzen tensed and muttered; “Make me.”

Koharu sighed and reached back to twist her captor’s arm. Effortlessly, he ducked and knocked her legs out from under her, and she plummeted towards the ground.

Evidently, that was just what she had been expecting. Twisting in mid-air, Koharu landed on both feet and in the blink of an eye was already leaping backward, prepared for Hiruzen to give chase.

He moved, stealthy as a shadow, in her wake, and they made their way into the trees once more.

“Homura!”

A knife came whistling out of nowhere through the trees and caught in the rope at the top of the trap. Homura snagged it out of the material and began deftly cutting at the web around him. The individual strands began to fray and then snap.

Within a few minutes, Tobirama was running through the forest anew, listening in mild amusement as Homura and Koharu teamed up on Hiruzrn. The three of them twisted and ducked, over and over, none of them landing any significant blows. They weren’t perfect, his young students. Still, he had faith that one day they would make a strong team.

Just then he noticed a presence drawing nearer: One that he had registered on his periphery, but which was now, strangely, approaching. Tobirama prepared himself.

Koharu had slammed Hiruzen down into the dirt face-first and was just beginning to screech her triumph when Homura kicked her in the stomach and sent her flying. Ah. The inevitable betrayal, vengeance for having been trapped earlier.

Hashirama glided in among the trees as he did anywhere else, with an easy casual grace that made many forget they were dealing with the founder of the village, the one who had defeated the feared Madara Uchiha in battle. He stopped just by where Tobirama stood, watching the teenagers sparring. He was not wearing his ceremonial hat or robes, today, Tobirama noticed; just loose, dark clothing, in a similar style to when they were kids.

Hiruzen stopped fighting almost immediately. Koharu and Homura gave individual crows of victory before also noticing the guest, and then the three of them were dropping to their knees, heads bowed.

Tobirama tried not to smile as Hashirama raised both hands.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to kneel”, Hashirama said, his cheeks a little red. “I’m just here to speak with my brother, if I may borrow him for a moment.”

“Of course, Lord Hokage”, Homura murmured, making no effort to get up, and the other two echoed his statement.

Hashirama turned to Tobirama. “Sorry if this is bad timing. May I?”

Tobirama refrained from rolling his eyes. “Let’s go.”

They wandered side by side among the fallen leaves, a carpet of yellow and brown stretching in all directions between the trees and sparse undergrowth.

When they were a suitable distance away, Hashirama turned to him and cheerfully commented; “That Hiruzen sure is something, isn’t he?”

Tobirama took in his brother’s face: It was open, amicable. Too amicable. There had to be another reason he was there.

Still, he merely smiled and responded; “The extra training sessions you have given him have certainly helped.”

Hashirama shook his head. “You give me too much credit. And yourself, too. You can’t teach that kind of talent. Only nurture it to help it grow.”

They walked without speaking for a moment, Hashirama staring off through the trees as though he were daydreaming. Tobirama had had enough of the metaphorical musings.

“What is it you need?”

Hashirama came to a halt, and Tobirama stopped beside him.

He couldn’t see Hashirama’s face through the curtain of hair that hung down. Cautiously, he reached out to his brother’s chakra: It was the same as always, the calm pull of the tides.

Eventually, he heard a low release breath. Hashirama lifted his head, turning his face towards Tobirama, and for once he wasn’t smiling.

“It’s almost time for me to step down as leader of the village. And I would like for you to take over.”

“Right.” Tobirama lowered his own head, blinking rapidly as he attempted to process the words. They had spoken of it, with the village council, previously. Who would succeed Hashirama when he was gone? Who _could_ succeed Hashirama? His name was one of the more popular choices, and many people had assumed, especially after Madara’s departure… Yet hearing it now was a shock.

He took a deep breath, realizing that Hashirama was waiting, and met his gaze. “Thank you, brother. I would be honored. But why?”

“I have complete faith in you.” Hashirama had his usual serene smile back on his face. He shrugged. “And as to why I’m asking you now- well, lately I have been thinking about my family, and I find myself wanting a quiet life. And… I would never tell anybody else this, except maybe Mito: For some years now I’ve been feeling almost like a tree rotting from the inside out.”

Tobirama tried to push away that mental image, even as his pulse spiked.

“Some years…?” He threw a questioning glance at the Hokage. “So then why now? Are things getting worse? Do you feel- are you sick?” His stomach churned at the thought.

H shook his head. “I am not ill, brother. At least, not sick in the way you might think. I am drained, that’s all. All these battles… I never had the stomach for it that you did.”

That was true, at least. Hashirama had never loved the fight. Tobirama had always wanted revenge for the wrongs done to their clan. However, Hashirama had simply wanted to mourn those that had been lost and move forward. In many ways, it was why he had been the one to find the village. And now it would be Tobirama’s turn to fight for its continued survival. His stomach clenched in anxiety.

Hashirama looked at him again and smiled that vague, mysterious smile he sometimes wore.

“And why not now? Why do the flowers bloom in spring and the leaves die in autumn?” He waved one hand around at the decaying scenery. “Who decides what happens at any time?”

Tobirama crossed his arms and glared, unimpressed and a little exasperated.

Even when they were kids, it had been difficult to get a straight answer from his brother, and that had only gotten worse with age.

After a moment Hashirama’s hypnotic smile eased into a playful grin, and he resumed walking. Tobirama took a few fast steps to catch him up.

“So, do you think you’re ready?”

Tobirama laughed a little. “I’ll have to be, won’t I? Now that the _mysterious forces of life_ have decided it’s my time.”

Hashirama guffawed, suddenly younger than he had seemed in months, one of his old full-bellied laughs, and hooked an arm over Tobirama’s shoulders. “That’s more like it! Now- go back to your kids! And when you get back later, we can discuss some plans for the new Yuhi compound…”


	5. Revival

“We must find peace. There has to be a way.”

Tobirama could feel it coming, and he exhaled when his suspicions were confirmed with his brother's next words.

“And I believe it begins with the Uchiha.”

“The Uchiha?”, one of the girls clustered around their table burst out. Her face, half-shadowed in the dim lamplight reflected the same doubt he felt. “But why?”

Hashirama, standing at the head of the table with a drink in one raised hand, waved his arms a little frantically. Some of his drink spilled over and onto the floor. “Because they are the ones we have been in constant conflict with for as long as anybody can remember. No other clan will find peace with either of us, so long as we continue to fight each other, through fear of being dragged into our war.”

“But peace with the Uchiha…”, a boy, a few years younger than Tobirama, perhaps twelve or thirteen, whispered to himself a couple of seats along. It took him a few seconds to recognize him: Yoshinori Senju, son of one of their mother’s cousins.

It wasn’t lost to Hashirama. “They are suffering casualties as much as we are. We lose siblings, parents, children, and so do they.”

“Good”, another boy snorted to Hashirama’s right.

A small ripple of murmurs ran across the table, only to be silenced as Hashirama rounded on the boy who had spoken. Tobirama recalled his name: Futoshi. Always a troublemaker. “Do you think that they wouldn’t say the same thing about the loss of life we suffer?”

“But they’re evil and they hate us. They want to see us dead.”

“They are people, the same as you or I.” A shocked wave of gasps came now. Tobirama gritted his teeth. “And those people speak of us in the same way we speak of them, that we are evil and wish them dead.” He paused, dark eyes suddenly narrowed and scanning the table. He seemed older than his seventeen years for once, Tobirama thought. “Perhaps it is true. Many of you here seem to wish them pain and death. Does that not make us the same as them?”

“Not when we’re just taking revenge against what they have done”, the same boy countered, although he seemed unsure now, his voice faltering slightly.

“But aren’t they just taking revenge for what we have done to them? They revenge against us, we revenge against them. How far back does it go? Where did it begin?” His brother’s voice was softer now, the light musing tone more familiar. “And where will it end?”

There was a long silence. Looking around, Tobirama could see the looks of wonder on the faces clustered about them. Most of the others seated at their long table were children, yet even the few adults had a look of wonder. Tobirama had learned long ago not to be jealous of the presence his brother commanded; Hashirama was simply better than most other people at certain things, and he had a naturally inviting aura. And he loved his brother so that there was never room for envy. Still, talking of peace with the Uchiha was a difficult subject. Wandering eyes from other tables, clan elders, were already straying in their direction. Tobirama could feel their eyes spiking as they fixed on Hashirama, heard his words, focusing in on him.

“It won’t”, Tobirama finally spoke up. All the eyes at the table turned to him and he felt like withdrawing from their gazes, the prick of their curiosity. Instead, he steeled himself by meeting his brother’s questioning look. “Please, be quiet. Now is not the time to share your misguided dreams. Especially ones that can never come true.”

“But-”

“Brother. Please.”

Hashirama must have sensed the desperation as he fell silent, slumping back into his seat once more. The faces turned away from Tobirama, in towards each other, and the chatter of conversation resumed.

All except one. Erino, a small girl, perhaps a year younger than Tobirama, with big dark eyes, was still watching him. When he shot her a questioning glare she ducked her head and looked away. Weird. Tobirama bristled slightly, feeling uncomfortable.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him almost leap from his fur jacket. “Tobirama.”

His frantically beating heart did not settle as his father’s face came into view. “Yes, father?”

“Tobirama”, Father said again, and then was quiet for a moment. Tobirama’s body finally settled back to its regular stasis. The clan leader had grown older and, truth be told, a little senile. Rather than hollowing with age, his cheeks had grown round and plump. His hair had thinned and receded slightly while maintaining the sleek darkness that Hashirama had inherited. It all gave him a much softer look than Tobirama had been used to as a child.

Finally, the man spoke again; “You should not yell at your brother so.”

Tobirama lowered his head quietly, obediently. His father’s hand still rested at the joining of his shoulder and neck. Looking down at the table he spoke softly; Hashirama was a shinobi. He would hear, even above the din around them.

“I’m sorry for my rudeness, brother. I only meant that your dream will need a lot of work. But, if you are committed to this vision of yours, then when you become clan leader I will follow you. Out of both duty and family.”

Their father’s hand disappeared and a moment later his presence drifted off in the direction of another table, seemingly satisfied.

Keeping his voice low, Tobirama continued; “Hashirama, I think you should prepare yourself for failure, as well. Things will not always work out as you desire.”

For the first time, he raised his lowered head and took in Hashirama’s face. To his surprise, Hashirama was smiling, the lamplight glowing behind his head and in his eyes. It was eerie. Glancing around, he was glad that at least Erino had stopped watching, and thankfully Futoshi was engaged in conversation about something else.

The smile turned into a laugh. “I won’t fail. How can I, when you will be there with me? Madara wants to end this conflict as much as I do, I know it. When I see him again, when I have the chance to speak and make him listen, he will remember.”

*

A slight breeze, ruffling at both his hair and the fur fringing his cloak, is all that announces Kagami’s present when he plops down beside the Hokage.

Tobirama doesn’t look around, still focused on the melee in front of him. The squabble has divided into organized practice matches, with Torifu squaring off against Koharu, and Hiruzen facing Homura and Danzou. They’re all moving slightly more smoothly now. Tobirama wonders whether they’ve just warmed up, or if it’s because he is now openly watching.

Eventually, his gaze is drawn to the dark pair of eyes at his side, staring into his face. He raises his eyebrows, trying to draw out the question his student so clearly wants to ask.

“You seem sad today.” Kagami tilts his head. “Why is that?"

He isn’t sad, not really. But it’s as good a word as any for the melancholy and weariness flowing through his bones, so he does not dispute the semantic choice.

After a heartbeat in which the wind picks up again slightly, he answers; “It was always Lord First’s dream that children would never have to fight again, as we did when we were young. And yet… Here we are.”

“And yet here we are”, Kagami echoes quietly.

They lock eyes, and Tobirama remembers those dark pupils, the ones masking the spiraling red that still haunts his dreams, judging him in other situations. The icy look on Kagami’s face, so unlike his usual cheerful demeanor, when he had asked about the crimes Tobirama had committed against his family. Another night, shortly after that one, where Kagami had followed Tobirama up to the hillside above the village while he went about his experiments. The Uchiha had watched in silence, making no comment and passing no judgment as Tobirama once more tried to perfect the Edo Tensei jutsu. This time was no more a success than any before; that was to say it had been a miserable failure. This time, Tobirama had used no human body, instead attempting to piece together a human from clay and other natural elements, something he knew from previous experiences did not work. It had briefly shambled about, taking on a form akin to his recently deceased brother, a misshapen freak of nature, before Tobirama had seen fit to destroy it. Kagami had watched impassively as the clay sagged and slew to the ground, and Tobirama heaved harsh breaths over its remains.

He trusts Kagami, with everything they and the rest of the team have been through. Still, there is often tension when the question of the Uchiha comes up. Watching now, he wonders whether Kagami is remembering the same as himself.

A commotion has them both turning their heads.

Hiruzen is standing with Danzou’s arm looped over his shoulders, heading in their direction. Danzou is straining at the grip on him and protesting, however, Tobirama knows first-hand that Hiruzen is deceptively strong for his compact figure.

He pulls the taller man over to where Tobirama and Kagami are seated, stopping a couple of meters in front of them.

“Sir, Danzou is clearly winded. He needs to rest, but he’s refusing”, Hiruzen announces.

Still struggling, Danzou gasps out; “I’m fine! You all need to stop treating me like I’m fragile glass that will break, I don’t need-”

“Danzou”, Tobirama cut across him. “Be quiet and sit down.”

Hiruzen and Kagami chuckle as he does so, and then Hiruzen turns to the raven-haired man.

“Are you joining back in?”

Kagami hesitates for a moment, before shrugging an assent. “Sure.”

Without warning, Hiruzen reaches down for his arm and enthusiastically yanks him to his feet. He then takes Kagami’s place next to Tobirama, settling himself comfortably on the grass with his legs crossed.

“What?!”, Kagami bursts out. “You can’t just tell me to join in and then steal my spot!”

“I’m winded, too”, Hiruzen tells him with a sly smile. He looks at Danzou, whose frown finally alleviates. “Look at us, we’ve both worked so hard today. We deserve a break.” He reaches out with one sandaled foot to nudge his toes at Kagami’s ankle. “We’ll watch you, though.”

“I’d only just sat-”

“Kagami!” Torifu’s despairing wail rings across the entire clearing. The boy has a set of lungs on him. “Help me! These two are teaming up against me!”

Tobirama glances over to see that, indeed, Koharu and Homura have cornered Torifu and are in the process of trying to remove his headband. This must be some new training they have come up with alone: He would never dream up something so foolish.

Kagami turns and re-enters the fray, advancing on Homura and Koharu to help save his teammate. Danzou and Hiruzen laugh lazily, both of them reclining back on their hands.

Tobirama hides his own amusement well; he always has been good at hiding things. And most of the people who could see through him are gone now.

*

Nobody would find him out here, hopefully.

Tobirama stood in the windswept clearing, set back behind a line of trees that hid the fact that several meters away was a cliff that dropped off and provided a view overlooking the village. It was far enough away that nobody would come looking for him there. He had already warned some of the council members not to bother seeking him out: It was time for his experiments, and none of them want to be involved in that.

Lately, he has been experimenting with something that strikes fear into even his own heart: It is something that ought to be forbidden, and which he will surely forbid; once he has perfected it, of course.

The Edo Tensei.

It would be the perfect weapon, the perfect defense.

Of course, perfection came at a high price.

Tobirama had attempted to bury the bodies back where he found them, and make it appear as though the earth had barely been disturbed.

The first experiment had been his younger cousin, Yoshinori Senju. They had never been close, but they were still family, and Yoshinori had been culled in his prime on the battlefield, slain by a shinobi of Sunagakure. Tobirama had not managed to make his fingers so much as twitch. His body, or what remained of it, had been returned quietly in the dead of night. It lay as still as when he had been cut down, his dusting of dark hair settling over his round face, cheeks slightly thinner than before. Tobirama had not been able to bring himself to return to that one.

Then there had been Ren, the former matriarch of the proud Shimura clan- and his student Danzou’s grandmother- who died alongside her husband, again on the battlefield. Even as he willed her to open her eyes, the permanent judgemental scowl on her sallow face had him shuddering.

In the end, both of those had been spectacular failures, and he had achieved little. Tobirama had eventually come to the conclusion that Ren’s body had been too old, and Yoshinori’s too damaged, for the jutsu to work. And so, he had looked elsewhere.

Haruka Hyuuga had been a promising young kunoichi, barely sixteen, killed on a mission shortly after the Hyuuga clan joined the village: Her death had almost sparked a war.

And yet she, too, had been a failure. She opened her eyes and stood and walked when he requested it, yet Haruka had stared at him with vacant eyes that reflected his own unease back at him. Desecrating the bodies of children was a shameful, shameful thing, even if it was down in the pursuit of knowledge and security for Konoja, he knew.

He had turned his attention to other, older warriors, even some of whom had passed naturally. So many soldiers, each drawn away from the clutches of death as a shambling corpse, each cut back down by his own hand on this cliffside. Far from the army Tobirama had imagined, standing watch over the village.

A new thought had begun to seed itself in his head over the past few weeks, and it was one of the thoughts that he sometimes got, the kind where he knew that it would not go away unless he tried it: He had only ever tried to resurrect them with their body.

The concept that he might create a life without having the physical vessel present made him feel a giddy rush of power to his head: Surely that would make him a god. He swallowed it down.

It was incredibly unlikely that this would work. But if it did…

Tobirama thought of a powerful shin, one whose body he had never actually seen as it lay dead and cold. The location of its burial remained a mystery to him.

Taking a deep breath, he summoned all of his strength and weaved his hands together, imagining a sharp, pale face, long dark hair.

A snowstorm began to gather around him. Sleet spiked against his skin, and sudden strong currents of wind buffeted his body. The air turned grey, and the far line of trees across the clearing dropped out of sight, hidden behind a frenzied flurry.

He concentrated harder, weaving the usual signs, the ones that stirred the elements to his side in battle and mixing them with the ones he had recently been using in his experiments.

Slowly, a solid shape began to appear.

Bit by bit, it started to take form, just several feet in front of him, and it was undeniably Izuna Uchiha’s features that stared back at him through the storm.

Except, it wasn’t Izuna.

The monstrous creature of clay and snow before him stared at him with eyes of grey, grey like the rest of its body. Its mouth opened and closed, working emptily, with no noises coming out. There was no indication at all that any of Izuna’s spirit resided there.

Tobirama lowered his hands, and everything came to a halt. As if it had never been there, the sleet vanished, and the clearing settled.

The not-Izuna raised one hand arm towards him, and it began to crumble, dropping to its knees, its lower legs already mingling with the ground it came from.

Another failure. Although, in this case, he had not been expecting much else. Attempting to call forth a soul into a vessel crafted of the land: What a foolish idea.

“So you’re still trying that, then?”

Tobirama whipped about to find his brother framed by the trees he himself had raised. His hands were on his hips, he was drawn up to his full height, and he looked every bit the man who had led them into battle years before. Yet, knowing him so well, it was easy to see how the years had weathered him, as they had the very forest which shrouded their home. His face was weary, his shoulder slumped slightly with lack of sleep. Being the Hokage was not an easy job. In the months since his final confrontation with Madara, that was becoming all the more apparent. The one place where Tobirama could discern no changes was in his eyes: They had been full of a new life ever since Tsunade had been born.

It was no secret that Hashirama adored his granddaughter. Her parents had been a little young, scarcely out of their teenage years, but with Hashirama and Mito being so active in her life, Tobirama felt no concern. He was sure she would grow strong and steady.

“I am.” The intense atmosphere broke and, with it, Tobirama felt the nightmarish creature begin to completely disintegrate behind him. “I thought you were with your family.”

“They’re your family, too.” Hashirama sighed. “I wanted to find you so you can get a good night’s rest. It’s Tsunade’s fourth birthday tomorrow so you need to be up early, or you know she’ll come and jump on you and drag you out. She’s been a handful since she learned to walk.”

“Since she learned to crawl”, Tobirama corrected him, at the same time going to his brother’s side without looking back over his shoulder. Let the beast crumble and rot there.

They began to turn back towards the village, all experiments forgotten for the time being.

Stealing glances at his brother while they meandered along the hidden trail towards their home, Tobirama saw that there were thin lines running across Hashirama’s face. He has seemed older, ever since his victory over Madara. His eyes were wearier as they darted across the path ahead of them, flickering about in a manner unlike his usual calm countenance.

Eventually, as they near the gates of the village, Hashirama said; “I really think you ought to stop with these experiments of yours.”

They had been over this before. Many times. Hashirama, the only one who knew the full extent of his explorations, had pleaded with him to stop, although he never did the one thing that might have given Tobirama pause and issued it as an official order. That wasn't Hashirama's way: If he believed he could make his brother see sense, he would attempt to reason with him. In some manner, Tobirama supposed that may have been one of the reasons he continued with his experiments. To see whether Hashirama would try to stop him.

“I am sure not the only one out there crafting new jutsus”, Tobirama replied caustically. “If we want to stay ahead of the other villages, we need to keep finding ways to defend ourselves.”

“Why do we need to stay ahead of them? We are at peace.”

“We may not always be.” His brother frowned at Tobirama as he spoke, his face wrinkled. “Oh, don’t give me that look, you know it as well as I. Peace is a fragile thing. An army of strong and powerful shinobi who feel no pain would be an incredible advantage.”

“So, you admit the Uchiha are powerful allies?”

Momentarily Tobirama froze. How could Hashirama possibly have recognized Izuna from his brief glance at that mutated face? Was it so obvious? His brother's gaze was hard as iron.

“I have never denied that they are powerful”, Tobirama murmured, lowering his head slightly.

Hashirama stared at him, his face giving no hint of his usual joy. “So why Izuna?”

“You think I would bring back Madara?”

That seemed to be a suitable answer, for his brother finally looked away. But even as he answered, Tobirama privately wondered the same thing: Why Izuna?


	6. Winter

Their father was barely cold in his grave when Hashirama began to mobilize.

It was at the peak of Summer that they had lowered the patriarch of both their clan and their family unit into the ground, and the days too grew colder with each one that passed.

Tobirama saw the trees turn from lush to barren, watched the leaves fall to form a carpet beneath his feet before eventually decaying into nothing, all while he accompanied his brother in visiting clan after clan, securing peace deals.

Hashirama’s dream was no longer a fantasy: It was becoming the reality of their lives. Family after family conceded to his requests, began to plan to join this new village of theirs.

It was the dead of Winter when Tobirama followed Hashirama through the stark, twisted forest to meet a delegation from the Uchiha.

This meeting was the one that Tobirama had least looked forward to, and the most essential one. So many other clans had agreed to Hashirama’s terms, on the condition that they would not also be drawn into a war against the Uchiha. Hashirama was confident that this could be arranged; Tobirama, less so.

The tent they met in was long, narrow, and dimly-lit. It reminded Tobirama of the tents they had formerly set up to dine in with their families.

Tobirama and Touka stood a little behind Hashirama, who spearheaded the group. Outside, among the trees, more of their soldiers lay in wait: Something Hashirama had insisted was not necessary, but which Tobirama refused to attend without.

It wasn’t as though they were the only ones: Across from them, Madara, Izuna, and a woman Tobirama vaguely recognized from the battlefield stood in a similar formation and, also similarly, he could feel the chakra signatures of a dozen others beyond the tent’s far wall.

Hashirama greeted Madara calmly.

“Madara. It has been some years.”

“Hashirama.” Madara’s face was drawn, his lips pale and twisted like a scar. “You have not changed.”

Hashirama’s dark eyes flitted towards Tobirama, just once, and he lowered his voice. “Come, let us speak in private.”

He raised one robed arm, and Madara immediately took a step back. Izuna remained where he was, steady and calm.

Tobirama glared at his brother, attempting to communicate his disapproval. Hashirama ignored him, however, keeping his gaze trained on Madara as they withdrew to one side of the tent. Madara threw up a genjutsu and they began to mutter together in low, indistinguishable voices.

He tried to work out whether his brother was having any success. It didn’t appear so. Madara stood with his back straight and his arms folded, his wild hair covering much of his face. Hashirama was leaning down, eyes intense and focused, gesturing rapidly. A tree trying to grow through a mountain.

A light tap on his arm jerked him back to the scene on their side of the tent: He and Touka stood together, faced with Izuna and the other Uchiha.

When Tobirama turned towards him, Izuna raised his eyebrows. A tiny, bemused smile tugged at his lips, although his eyes were cool as previously.

“How nice of you to visit”, Izuna said eventually. He was addressing Tobirama directly; there was no mistaking that. “I take it that it was not your idea to come here.”

“It was not.” Tobirama spoke shortly, then tilted his head, glad he had chosen to wear his new armor. “But I am fully supportive of my brother’s ideals.”

Infuriatingly, Izuna merely hummed.

Tobirama tried not to let his own eyes drift towards Izuna’s: He knew well enough the danger that lied there. A ripple of fear stirred deep in his stomach, but also one of frustration. The Uchiha had been blessed with such incredible power. With that kind of ability, there was so much that Tobirama himself could have accomplished. Just what was Izuna doing with it.

Although he knew he was simply trying to provoke Izuna, and that much would be obvious to everybody gathered there, Tobirama spat; “You are nothing but a shadow of your brother. Your name is known only through him.”

Again, to his surprise, Izuna laughed rather than rising to the challenge. Tobirama watched him, wide-eyed. He had, of course, sized Izuna up, now and on the battlefield; taking in his posture, his size, his chakra, the slope of his muscles under his clothes. Except, now, outside of the fires of war, Tobirama could observe the changes that the small boy he had once met in the forest had undergone.

His teeth were straight and white, peeking out from under pale lips. His hair was long now- just like his brother’s- only drawn back in a ponytail that hung in a wisp over one shoulder. His chakra was still light, fluttering like a bird’s wings, but the grey has turned black and there are spikes of red, much closer resembling his brothers. Although, rather than the choking, stifling feeling of Madara’s, Izuna’s pulsed: A pressure that could be escaped. Izuna was small, more slender than Madara or Tobirama, but he was lean, and Tobirama knew his strength from experiencing it being used to ram into his side and knock him off balance.

Tobirama wondered whether he seemed different in their eyes as well.

Their eyes. The most significant change.

Izuna was speaking.

“I could say the same of yourself but… We both know the truth. We deserve to stand side by side with our brothers. I have heard the great things you have done.”

“I can show you some if you like”, Tobirama replied, keeping his voice level. “Perhaps the next time we face off in battle.”

Izuna raised an eyebrow. “How can you be so sure there will be a next time? Is that not the purpose of this meeting? To end the conflict? Or do you doubt your brother’s abilities to do so?”

“My brother is perfectly capable of achieving peace but bargaining with deranged butchers is beyond even him.”

“Well, we can’t just forget all of your crimes against us simply because you have now decided you want peace, can we? What do we stand to gain in joining a ‘village’ which will be dominated by the Senju?” He was still speaking with a pleasant tone, and that angered Tobirama even further.

He felt fire- the fire that the Uchiha used to burn their forest during their skirmishes- roaring in his head as he snapped; “So you will continue to slaughter your children for the sake of your hatred?”

Izuna opened his mouth but closed it again as the genjutsu was dropped and Hashirama and Madara’s voices rang out clearly about the tent.

“Madara, if you would just listen to me…”, Hashirama pleaded.

“You no longer have business here”, the other man announced. “Leave our land.”

“But, Madara-”

“Leave. Before I change my mind about allowing you to do so.”

As they walked the path through the bare trunks in the direction of the village, Tobirama breathed a sigh of relief that a fight had not erupted. Although, from the tension he could feel pulsing from his brother ahead, so palpable he was sure all of the others could sense it as well, Hashirama clearly believed that not reaching a deal was akin to a battle fought and lost.

A shadow alerted him to Touka’s presence by his side. The whites of her eyes stood out through the darkness as she watched him.

Eventually, he murmured, voice almost lost to the wind; “What is it?”

“Do you know him?”

“Know who?”, Tobirama asked, although he had a suspicion he already knew.

“Izuna Uchiha?”

He kept his gaze fixed resolutely on the path ahead as he answered. “No. Not at all.”

*

Sunshine spills across Tobirama's face and he closes his eyes, electing to ignore the ongoing training match before him for just a moment, enjoying the gentle warmth.

“I heard what you were saying to Kag.” Hiruzen’s voice has Tobirama slowly opening his eyes and turning slightly to the side, squinting against the sun. “Do you really think we can win this war?”

Tobirama exhales a shallow breath. He weighs his words cautiously. Danzou, sitting on his other side, leans in slightly, his head down towards the ground; listening intently while pretending not to do so.

“I believe that we can win, truly”, he says eventually. “But we will suffer heavy losses. Heavier than we have so far.”

“But the ideals of the village will prevail”, Hiruzen declares assuredly. “We have to believe they will.”

His eyes are larger than normal, round as he gazed at his old mentor.

Tobirama was right, he decided, all those years ago, when he and Hashirama had singled Hiruzen out for training. In many ways the young man reminded Tobirama of his brother; always dreaming. Perhaps that positivity was what was needed in the future, more so than his defensiveness. Not from him, though: He was old and set in his ways.

No, it would be Hiruzen’s generation that would begin enacting the real changes. He was sure of it.

*

Sentinels stood watch at every corner, on every rooftop: Madara’s insane declaration of war had the whole village on alert.

Tobirama passed among shafts of light streaming from windows, not bothering to conceal his presence.

Nearing Hashirama’s home, the presence of the guards intensified. None of them bothered him as he walked by.

He nodded to Touka, standing just outside.

When he heard two people speaking, he paused at the door.

Mito first, her usually clear voice low and muffled. “It’s too dangerous.”

And then Hashirama, firm and resolute. “I have to protect the village.”

“Then take someone with you!” Mito’s pitch shot right up, and Tobirama would have been sure that he heard fingernails scraping against wood. “Take me, take your brother-”

“No. Mito, you know it has to be me, alone.”

“I know no such thing!”

Tobirama took a step forward, letting his presence be known, and both voices immediately fell silent, replaced by quiet breaths.

He opened the front door and shut it behind himself. The corridor was dark and empty, the only light shining a clear-cut rectangle shining from the doorway into the lounge.

Walking through and into the light, Tobirama was faced with Mito and Hashirama sitting across the table from each other. Mito’s long red hair was drawn up in her customary buns on either side of her head and her pale face was like stone. Hashirama had that faraway look that Tobirama had learned to hate over the years, the one that meant Hashirama would not be swayed from the course he had set himself on.

Mito snapped; “Tobirama, tell him.”

Hashirama stood and went towards his brother.

Once he stood in front of him, he announced; “I’m going to face him.”

“I can’t let you do that”, Tobirama replied simply. “Not alone.”

“That’s what I told him”, said Mito. “Hashi, what’s the point in giving me this power if you won’t allow me to use it?”

Hashirama looked back at her over his shoulder. “I need you two to stay here, to protect our home.” He still had the same cool, detached expression.

Tobirama gripped his brother’s arm as if there was a way he could stop Hashirama by force. “Will you fight him?”

Shrugging him off easily, Hashirama slipped past his brother and into the hall. Tobirama felt rather than saw Mito joining him, her nauseatingly powerful chakra threatening to swamp him from behind.

“If I must. It is likely that that is what will happen, now he has gone this far. If I do not come back, brother, I entrust the safety of the village to you.” He stopped at the door, turning back. “I love you both very much.”

And then he was gone.

Tobirama stood in place for a minute before slumping against the wall, his shoulders sagging. Mito remained standing where she was, her hands balled in fists. Neither of them spoke as the minutes dragged on; it was as though they were simply waiting for the night to come to an end.

His head was swarming with possibilities.

How did Hashirama feel, fighting Madara? Tobirama knew this would be hard for him. He hoped Hashirama would kill him. Not only was it the only option now, in spite of Madara’s contributions to their village, but it was also what he deserved. He hoped his brother wouldn’t be too torn or upset over it. Tobirama had once believed that the Uchiha loved like no other clan, but Madara seemed to love nothing. Not anymore. Only hate resided inside of him. Perhaps it was that love which had driven Madara to hate; the love for his family, for his brother, for his clan, which tore him apart in the end. Whatever the case, he was a threat to the home they had built, and he needed to be stopped.

Tobirama stood straight. “Mito, protect the village.”

Her fingers clasped at her green silk dress. “Where are you going?”

“I would rather be fighting alongside him than waiting here.” He frowned. “I will not let him throw his life away at Madara’s feet. And, if Madara did defeat my brother, I would be no match for him. If he defeated the two of us together, you would be the only one who could hold him off long enough to assemble a counter-attack.”

Mito evaluated him for a long moment and then nodded.

With her assent, Tobirama marched outside.

Touka was already waiting, hovering by the door.

“Assemble a team. Now”, he told her.

Without a question, she nodded and flickered away, and he didn’t wait before he began his race through the night. He had never been very good at following his brother’s instructions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I haven't updated this in a little while, my bad. I just haven't really been in the mood to write anything Naruto-related lately, especially since I've been so caught up in the Haikyuu manga as it comes towards the end, and life has generally been busy.
> 
> But now hopefully I'm going to get this finished in the next month or two: A lot of the last chapters are already written (I tend to plan ahead when I write), it's mainly this one and the next one that I still need to do a lot of work on. So fingers crossed it won't be long before this is complete!


	7. Opponents

Tobirama was not quite sure how it happened.

All he knew was that it had been over a year since the disastrous attempted peace treaty with the Uchiha, and that one moment he was moving through the trees at the very edge of their known territory, doing as Hashirama had asked him and searching for a prime location for their village, and then he was being pressed down onto his back.

Pain shot through him where he slapped against the cold ground, hard. A glint caught his eye and a knife was coming down towards his chest, a powerful body looming over his own. On instinct, his hands came up and caught the hilt of the blade, wrapping over cold fingers and squeezing hard as he attempted to break them.

Izuna’s face was hidden, a dark silhouette against the sunlight framed by long black hair, but there was no mistaking that it was him. Tobirama had not seen him at all since the attempted peace treaty: The Senju clan had simply been busy with other matters, and while both families had participated in raids and skirmishes against each other there had been relatively few planned attacks. It probably helped that HS had forbidden them to attack the Uchiha except in self-defence, a move heavily frowned upon by many members of the settlement, as Tobirama had feared, but this was one policy he had been unable to dissuade his brother from.

Still, it was that chakra, still beating like a bird’s wings, that wiry strength he felt in the thighs that pinned his stomach to the floor, that he recognized.

Blindly, Tobirama tightened his grip still further. He rocked back onto his shoulders and uses the hardened muscles there to push himself forward, his weight the deciding factor in sending Izuna stumbling away, wrenching his hands free of Tobirama.

For a second Tobirama couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

And then his body began to move, the movements of one who’d had their instincts drilled into them from an early age, flipping to his feet and backing away, drawing his own weapon. Izuna stared at him from just along the pathway among the foliage, his teeth bared and eyes feral.

There were clashes, then, over and over. Metal against metal, skin against skin, fire against ice.

For several minutes Tobirama was unable to land a blow, and the same was true of Izuna against him.

He felt the lash of the shuriken whipping past his frame and, breathing heavy as they parted, he spotted the thin trickle of blood from his right arm. Izuna was sporting a similar graze on one calf, and even Tobirama could not recall exactly when that had happened.

They threw themselves at each other for a dozen more minutes, with much the same outcome. Tobirama’s entire body was growing fatigued.

“Stop”, Izuna grunted, as Tobirama focused on summoning all of his chakra and forming a shadow clone. “We are evenly matched.”

Those were bold words, coming from the one who had attacked him first, Tobirama thought. The words of somebody who realized they had taken on more than they could handle.

“Never”, he hissed in response.

For several more minutes, the clashes and grunts were the only noises filling the air around them. Tobirama sacrificed his clone to land a blow against Izuna’s shoulder; Izuna caught Tobirama on the hip with his foot and winded him briefly. Injuries were traded back and forth, easily shaken off.

“Stop”, Izuna said again, and this time Tobirama listened.

Crouched against a tree, he spat in Izuna’s general direction; “You are weak.”

He knew that was far from the truth. He had used all of the tricks he could think of, and Izuna had used his own to counter them. The land between them was now bare, alternately scorched and soggy.

Izuna was staring down at the cut on his leg. “We can settle this another time. In battle.”

“Why not now?”

Izuna threw him an almost amused look, and Tobirama knew he must have looked as pitiful as his opponent did: Izuna’s hair had fallen from its ponytail and was all knotted about his head. Tobirama tugged his cloak up where it had begun to fall from his shoulders.

Shaking his head, Izuna said; “Neither of us will win here today. We are too equally matched.”

“That is not true”, Tobirama argued. He watched as Izuna’s gaze flickered towards him, prepared to react to any movement in his direction. “Our power comes from different places.”

“How do you mean?” The Uchiha tilted his head.

“The Senju fight for honor. Our power stems from love. Your strength lies only in hatred.” It was a well-known fact, one that Tobirama had learned from an early age.

Izuna snorted. “That’s not true.”

Tobirama frowned. That was not the answer he had expected: Izuna outright disagreeing with him.

“We get our power from the same place, from the same love, from our family. We just see things differently than you do, that’s all”, said Izuna. “We care more.”

Tobirama openly scoffed. That was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

His breathing had mostly recovered, so he drew himself up to his full height, prepared in the event that this was some kind of ruse by Izuna to have him lower his guard.

“The next time I see you will be in battle, and I will best you, Uchiha”, he warned.

Without waiting for an answer, he spun and left, heading in the familiar direction of home. He was not running away. But, deep down, he suspected Izuna might be right. Continuing their fight now would leave neither of them a winner. They were too evenly matched. Seeing Izuna today had confirmed that he was no longer the little boy Tobirama recalled, asking eagerly about Tobirama’s abilities.

On the way back to their camp, he decided that he would not tell anyone about seeing Izuna: It would be disgraceful to admit he could not defeat the Uchiha, even if Izuna admitted the same.

He ignored the second, secret reason, bubbling in the back of his brain; that having a secret from Hashirama was thrilling, the way Hashirama had kept Madara a secret from him, the way Hashirama occasionally continued to work in mysterious ways, only sharing with Tobirama what he needed to share.

*

A noise- barely there, the snapping of a twig, so light it could be the landing of a bird- catches Tobirama’s attention. He smiles to himself. Even without reaching out to sense chakra, he knows who it is.

Hiruzen barely has time to turn in the direction of the sound, which is at an increased volume, when Tsunade rockets from among the trees, her blonde ponytail and her dress flowing out behind her, and latches onto Hiruzen’s waist.

“Hiruzen-sensei! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Calm down, Tsunade”, Hiruzen instructs, suddenly serious. He peels her arms from his sides, only she half-clambers up him to hang off his neck.

Who ‘we’ is becomes apparent, if it already wasn’t, when Orochimaru and Jiraiya follow her out from the hiding spot in the bushes.

Tobirama watches them cautiously. He knows Hashirama had always advocated these two small children as playmates of Tsunade, and Hiruzen often reports that the three of them work well together. Yet he has not taken too much of an interest in them before, taking his brother and student's words on the subject as true.

Jiraiya lopes over to Tsunade, grasping her sides and attempting to pull her away from their teacher. It works: She turns towards him and immediately begins to pummel him with her fists, until Hiruzen tells her to stop. His chakra spikes seemingly randomly, a blazing orange-gold pinwheel firework. Orochimaru, on the other hand, moves in Jiraiya’s shadow. His long dark hair is a curtain about his face, and his gaze slinks about the clearing, taking in the training session and those watching with equal interest. His strange eyes touch briefly on Tobirama, and Tobirama feels his own narrow. The small boy’s chakra is grey, and murky, as vapid as mist and almost impossible to get a clear grasp on.

Tsunade’s chakra is green-brown- like the forest- and, like her grandfather, it is overwhelming. Tobirama often wonders how his brother’s strength seemed to have skipped a generation and found its home in such a young girl. Unlike Hashirama, however, Tsunade’s chakra is a constant: There is no ebb and flow of the tide, no pulsing or spiking or fluttering. Just a consistent force, tucked neatly inside her body and waiting to be put to the test.

She seems to recognize, for the first time since they entered the clearing, that her uncle is there. “Uncle Tobirama! Hi!” She frowns suddenly; Tobirama is always surprised how swiftly the child’s temperament changes. “Are you the one making Hiruzen-sensei busy?”

“He can come and train with you now, if you like”, Tobirama announces, ignoring the way Hiruzen’s face freezes. He almost smiles as Tsunade and Jiraiya cheer.

Hiruzen stands, and then looks down at his students. “I’m sure Danzou will be happy to help, too.”

He laughs at Danzou’s protests as an excited Tsunade grabs one of his hands and attempts to drag him off. There is real pain on his face and Tobirama is sympathetic: His niece is strong. After a moment, Orochimaru gives a small smile and does the same, clinging to Danzou’s other hand. Hiruzen sinks back onto his haunches, watching.

When Tobirama looks away, Jiraiya is staring at him intently. His face is very round, his angled eyes wide.

“I like your face paint”, he tells Tobirama.

“It’s not face paint.”

“Oh.”

“Jiraiya”, Hiruzen warns, and Jiraiya scampers to his teacher’s side.

Tobirama stares as Danzou attempts to manoeuvre about Tsunade and Orochimaru without actually harming them. They are only seven or eight- or is it nine? Tobirama can’t quite recall- and clearly have not had much formal training. They are nowhere near the same standards to which he and Hashirama held Hiruzen at that age, and he momentarily wonders what Hiruzen is teaching them.

But then Tsunade lands a strong kick, right on Danzou’s bad leg. Orochimaru, just behind her, shoves him for good measure, sending him toppling over, and Tobirama remembers that children both have a way of discovering weaknesses and a lack of regard for using said weaknesses against someone, assuming that everybody is as durable as they are.

“Alright, that’s enough”, Hiruzen eventually yells, “stop tormenting Danzou.”

Orochimaru immediately falls still, his slim arms dangling down by his sides and his head hanging down. Tsunade sighs and whines.

Hiruzen gets to his feet. “I’ve probably had a long enough break. Danzou and I are going to spar. You three, watch us and try to keep up with what we’re doing.”

Danzou groans, but he smiles when Hiruzen helps him up, and he doesn’t show any sign of his injury once they head back into the fray.

The children settle down next to Tobirama, bickering amongst themselves. Indistinctly, he hears them making bets on who will win the fights, and this time he does not bother to hide his amusement. Oh, to be so young and carefree again.

*

A deep warmth settled in Tobirama’s stomach in spite of the chill in the air. Partly that was due to the rather vast quantity of alcohol he had consumed over the last few hours, and in part due to his companions, sharing the journey with him.

Close by on his right Touka walked with Saori Yakushi, a close friend of Mito’s, who had joined them on their outing after Tobirama had struck up conversation with her on a few joint missions. She was nice enough, but fiery and proud like Mito. They had just left Erino and Yoshinori, who he had stayed close to over the years. It helped that they were around the same age, yet the primary reason was that they had each been raised under the adage that family stuck together, above all.

Behind them were their other drinking companions of the evening: Rikuto Hatake, a man who Tobirama was not quite sure what to make of; Hibiki Yamashiro, a quiet and sweet-tempered young man who clearly held some affection for Touka, and Tobirama wasn’t quite sure whether to threaten him to be kind in his advances, or to gently take him aside and let him know it was unlikely to happen; and, supported between them, Ichirou Tatami, loud and feisty, trying to prove himself to his ageing parents. They had refused to join the village out of sheer stubbornness, even though the rest of their clan had joined, yet still lived just outside of their land and came in to the village to visit the market every Thursday morning. Hashirama allowed them to stay as they were doing no harm, but it was driving Ichirou mad, and their insane heel-dragging was what he was loudly complaining about as they made their way along.

“Someone shut him up”, Tobirama grumbled over his shoulder at the staggering trio.

Rikuto merely blinked at him.

“Ah- sorry”, Hibiki murmured, and then turned to Ichirou, attempting to quiet him with soothing words.

Suffice to say, it did not work.

“Why can’t they just accept that times have changed?”, Ichirou wailed into the night. “Seriously, it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re embarrassing”, Saori hissed.

They turned toward the section of the village where a large amount of the recent additions had made their homes.

Tobirama found his feet faltering at the junction where one lane met another.

“Cousin?”, Touka asked. All five of them were watching him. Waiting for him to speak.

“I believe I will visit my brother”, he whispered. Through the streets, he could see it; the Hokage’s home. The lights were on. But that wasn’t the reason he had paused.

Rikuto asked, solemn as always; “Do you need an escort?”

“No, thank you.” He dipped his head curtly to them and set off without further farewells.

When he let himself in, the house was haunted by shadows, stretching long over the walls in the low lamplight. Every normal household item caused intricate tangled shapes against the wall.

Reaching out for their chakra, Tobirama felt that he was not mistaken: He was here.

Tobirama stalked silently into the front room and found Madara’s hulking form hunched in a chair. In the low light, he was even more demonic than usual, and it sent a shudder down his spine.

Madara tilted his head, and Tobirama felt that they had lived this moment before. “Tobirama. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Blood and alcohol roared in Tobirama’s ears. “Where is my brother?”

“Upstairs. He just went to get something.” Madara stood. “But I am sure you knew that already. We were having a meeting; nothing official, I assure you. Just a chat between old friends.”

And Tobirama felt rage flare in him at Madara’s unpleasant sneer, at the thought that they may have arranged this meeting in the knowledge that he would be out- out of the way- for the evening.

He stepped across to Madara lightly, so lightly even Hashirama may have struggled to hear him. Madara must have noticed the look on his face, for he moved hurriedly away from the chair.

Tobirama stepped into his space, gripped his arm, and sent him flying back against the wall with a bone-crunching thud. His hand found Madara’s throat, his pulse jumping thick and strong as his chakra.

Madara’s eyes were pinwheels, his grin was sharp, all of his teeth showing. They both knew Madara could fight back, could probably free himself if he wanted to, but he let Tobirama force him against the wall.

Dimly, somewhere, Tobirama knew that there was a reason he had always wanted to do this, something that had brought their relationship to a head, other than the simple Senju and Uchiha dynamic, other than their petty snarking over Hashirama. Something Tobirama had needed to know, for a long time.

Standing completely frozen to the side of the low-lit room, among all of Hashirama and Mito’s domestic furniture, Madara’s face twisted in confusion at Tobirama’s hesitance.

“Did you kill him?” There had been rumors. There had always been rumors, and they had even made their way to Tobirama.

“Oh.” Madara’s face contorted, the smile returning, his eyes going dark. Tobirama almost reeled back, but he remained solid, rooting his feet to the wooden floorboards. “Is that what all this has been about?” He laughed. “You want to know which one of us did it?... What? Has the guilt been eating away at you, all of these years?”

Quick as lightning, Tobirama slammed a kunai into the wall by Madara’s head. “Tell me.”

“No, not guilt. I don’t think someone like you can even feel guilt.”

This time it was Madara’s head that Tobirama slammed into the wall.

And there it was: The line, now crossed.

Madara’s eyes began to glow red, and Tobirama looked away just in time. He felt Madara’s muscles tensing, even his neck straining and corded under Tobirama’s grasp, a second before-

“Madara! Tobirama! Stop this.”

Blazing in all of his godlike glory, Hashirama stood in the doorway. His arms were raised, ready to physically separate the two if necessary.

It wasn’t.

Hashirama’s chakra was overwhelming. Tobirama dropped his arms, stepping away. He almost struggled for breath.

Madara, too, halted immediately, his body going slack. When Tobirama glanced at him, his eyes were once more pitch black.

“Your brother began this”, he spat, his voice hoarse.

Hashirama turned to Tobirama, and Tobirama felt the sting of the accusation in his chest, more so that Hashirama listened than that it was true.

“My apologies, brother”, he managed. His head spun. “I have been drinking.”

“Go home and sleep it off”, Hashirama murmured. The waves of chakra rolling out from him lessened slightly, however did not fade entirely. “And come over in the morning, when you wake up.”

Tobirama didn’t look at Madara when he left, or at Hashirama. His mind was consumed only with the thought that allowing the Uchiha into the village had been a mistake; that it was growing more difficult with each passing day to remind himself to hate only Madara and not the Uchiha.


	8. Union

His surroundings blurred around him as Tobirama raced through the forest, not paying any attention to his surroundings. In hindsight, he likely should have known better, with everything that had happened a year prior.

Leaping over a fallen log, he landed roughly, nearly twisting an ankle, although he regained his balance swiftly.

The reason for his sudden flight from home was a meeting that Hashirama had experienced with one of their clan elders. The man had argued with Hashirama at every turn, refusing to listen to his points. Tobirama knew the flaws in his brother’s vision, yet the elder had been trying to find fault with everything, even Hashirama’s valid points regarding the losses they had suffered.

Tobirama had had two choices: Either flee, or stay and risk losing his temper at the man.

He had chosen to flee.

He had never had Hashirama’s sense of patience or forgiveness. Wariness seemed to come naturally to him, and in certain cases spiraled into bitterness and paranoia, Tobirama was well aware of that. It was an aspect of his personality he merely accepted. At times like these, though, he could not help wondering- however briefly- whether it would be better to live diplomatically, to not feel the rage burning in the pit of his stomach at a verbal slight against his family.

Finally reaching the river, he sank down onto his haunches and cupped water in his fingers, rubbing roughly over his sweaty face with one hand. Then he allowed his head to droop down, listening to the clarity of the ambient evening air and letting his anger wash away downstream.

Blinking open his eyes, he leaped to his feet upon the realization that there was a figure reflected in the stream of water, occasionally broken up by the ripples.

He glanced up. Indeed, Izuna Uchiha was stood on the opposite shore. How had Tobirama not noticed his approach?

Izuna’s lips twitched, annoyingly, into what seemed to be a smirk. He was slightly taller now, fuller in his loose dark clothing, and his hair longer in its ponytail.

“Tobirama”, he said.

“Izuna.” Tobirama’s voice was even despite the thundering of his heart. He wanted to ask how long Izuna had been there but did not wish Izuna to realize that he did not know.

As though answering an unspoken question, Izuna continued; “I saw you from the tree line back there. I’ve gotten better at tracking people than when I was a child.” His lips twitched once more. “You seemed angry.”

Tobirama did not answer. Instead, he waited for Izuna to cross the river, waited for the tensing of muscles that would pre-empt his movement.

Yet Izuna merely continued to stare at Tobirama, no indication that he had any plan to attack at all. Tobirama wondered what was happening.

Eventually, Izuna continued, unperturbed; “I was hoping for a fight.”

“So why don’t you come across the river then?”, Tobirama challenged, somewhat childishly.

Izuna tilted his head, the hair of his ponytail sliding over one shoulder. “Why don’t you?”

“I don’t have any desire to do so right now.”

“So you are adhering to your brother’s policies?”

Tobirama avoided meeting Izuna’s narrowed gaze, afraid that he would catch a glimmer of blood-red in them.

“They make sense”, he sniffed.

“Ah”, said Izuna, “I’m afraid our opinions differ there. I suppose, in theory, they do, but they are not practical at all. If our clans were to live together, there would be mayhem and bloodshed in the streets.”

“It is working so far. You would be surprised. A good many clans have put aside their hatred for the sake of the village.”

Izuna stared at him, almost as though he were genuinely considering the benefits of their system. Tobirama decided to think of himself as an agent of his brother’s mission, attempting to influence the Uchiha to peace. He would be careful not to mention some of the discontents in their ranks. He also would not tell Izuna of the fact that several families had refused to join them, voicing fears that they would be turned into fodder in the centuries-old war against the Uchiha. They would not join so long as the Senju and Uchiha remained enemies. Hashirama’s dreams would never come true until the fighting ended.

Tobirama saw that Izuna was still watching him, and he tensed, jolted from his thoughts.

“I’m ready for that fight, now.” He raised his chin at the Uchiha. “If you still want it.”

“Maybe another time.” Izuna shook his head. “Your brother is likely worried about you. I know mine would be.”

Why was Izuna worried about Hashirama, Tobirama wondered. The concern certainly appeared genuine. Maybe he thought Madara still cared for him, and was simply thinking of his own brother.

Tobirama could have stayed, could have forced Izuna to face him. But he knew from past experience that that never ended well.

So he turned and ran through the forest, moving as silently as possible and taking the long route in case of being followed.

He sat outside their gate for ten minutes, scanning the area around him, before he passed through.

Inside, Hashirama was sitting alone on a bench. Tobirama joined him, and they sat quietly for some time. The entire village almost seemed to be deserted; he had not realized how late it had gotten. It was almost dark.

He wondered whether Hashirama would question him, as to why he had fled and where, and why he was returning now.

Hashirama asked; “Do you remember when Grandma Hisayo used to tell us stories, about those two brothers that fought?”

Tobirama stared at him. “Of course.” Memories of Itama’s funeral, of their father, flooded his mind unbidden.

His brother was in that strange mood he sometimes got, where he seemed to be living in the present and the future all at once.

Without looking at Tobirama, he whispered; “I used to think that I never wanted us to become like that.”

“What?”, Tobirama swallowed and chuckled. “And now you do?”

“No.” Hashirama went quiet. His long hair framed his face, hiding the majority of it, but Tobirama could see the glint of his black eyes reflecting what dim light came from above. “I never had to worry about you.”

The emphasis on ‘you’ hit Tobirama, and he cursed himself.

Why had he not just killed Izuna? He had had the perfect chance. The chance to end it all.

Next time, he swore. Next time.

*

Several minutes later, the children have not settled down. Tobirama finds, as he watches the group and listens to their commentary, that his blood boils.

For the children are impressed.

They do not know to pick apart the weaknesses, the ways in which the group could be easily dismantled, the points on their bodies that they continually left open and exposed; only momentarily, yet long enough.

Perhaps Orochimaru did, but he does not speak, and Tobirama can only see a quarter of his face with the curtain of dark hair. Tsunade and Jiraiya, on the other hand, cannot seem to stop talking. It is clear that they admired Hiruzen, at least.

Tobirama stands abruptly, and the children fall silent and looked at him, with the exception of Jiraiya, who continues blabbering until Tsunade elbows him far too hard.

“Watch me”, Tobirama instructs.

He laces his fingers together.

One by one, the members of his team freeze in their sparring and turn to him, used to this particular method of training. They are ready.

He is getting soft in his old age, clearly, in allowing them that much of a warning.

Tobirama launches himself into the midst of the battle, hearing his own panting, feeling the twinge in his leg. Kunai aree scattered about the clearing in the first wave of his efforts and, to his immense sense of pride, his students deal with those easily enough.

He does not hold back from then on: Utilising his cloning technique, he swiftly takes down Danzou. He is the weakest, after all; an easy target. Tobirama knocks him back with blow after blow until Danzou is grunting under the force of his strikes.

Hiruzen, as ever, is the one who removes Danzou from the battle, roughly sending his friend across the clearing and onto his knees. For once, rather than fighting, Danzou stays down.

_Good_ , Tobirama thinks as he continued his assault, bringing a crashing wave of sleet over Koharu and Homura and using it to mask them from their comrades. Danzou needed to learn that, sometimes, the best way to fight was not to fight at all.

Koharu and Homura are the next to go. He hits their chakra pressure points in a move that the Hyuuga clan would envy, so fast that they barely had time to react before they fall.

To his dismay, he discovers an explosive tag plastered to his back: Koharu, of course. He removes it with a flick of one wrist and slams it onto Torifu’s chest, kicking him back so that he stumbles over where Danzou is still crouched prone. Torifu claws it off just in time but, in the process of doing so, Tobirama has him disarmed.

Kagami, his guard let down as he watches, is dealt with next. He opens his eyes wide, and Tobirama reminds himself to watch the boy’s feet, his arms, rather than his face. It would have been difficult, had he not trained to do so for years; now it is almost second nature, something unspoken.

The battle with Hiruzen is harder. Even Tobirama struggles to find an opening.

Ultimately, after trading blows back and forth, they come to a draw, each holding a knife to the other’s throat.

“A draw”, Tobirama grunts. He is ashamed of how labored his breathing is.

Hiruzen smirks. “I don’t think so.”

Tobirama turns his head slightly, looking back.

Crouched behind himself on one knee is Danzou. He holds a shuriken in his hand, about to slice into his teacher's back.

Tobirama chuckles to himself. He drops his knife and raises his hands.

“I admit defeat.”

Hiruzen relaxes slightly, and Tobirama takes the opportunity to show that he could have escaped any time he wanted to, flickering back over to where the children sit motionless.

He feels a smirk tinging his own face at their awe.

“I- Can you teach me to do that?”, Jiraiya stammers.

Tsunade turns on him. “Of course not! Not just anybody can learn that, idiot! He’s the Hokage!”

“Then I want to be the next Hokage!”

“You can’t, idiot, Hiruzen will be!”

“Well, I’ll be after him!”

“No, I will be. I’m stronger than you!”

Orochimaru merely watches his teammates arguing, contemplating, and then his lips draw up in a tiny smile, his narrowed eyes closing in what appeared to be content.

The three of them are certainly going to be a formidable team in the future. That much was already clear.

*

Flurries of movement and the pounding of feet sounded all around Tobirama. With his eyes closed, in the darkness, he felt his body wanting to tense up automatically, to shift into a fighting stance.

Opening his eyes, he attempted not to size up his partner- a young Inuzuka girl- as his opponent.

Bodies crushed against them on all sides on the dance floor, and Tobirama did not know where to step. In all honesty, he would have preferred the battlefield.

Still, it was Hashirama and Mito’s wedding: The first large public event since the village was founded. It was his duty, as Hashirama had described it, to mingle and cause merriment. He could see his brother and Mito moving about the edges of the floor, talking with various important clan figures.

Madara was never far behind. Even now, he stood at Hashirama’s elbow, staring sourly as the other laughed.

The Inuzuka girl, whose name he had long since forgotten, hissed as Tobirama stepped on her foot, and he leaped back, muttering apologies when he crashed into another dancer.

Somebody waltzing past Tobirama caught his arm, and his partner was forcibly switched.

He stiffened slightly, only to relax once he saw that Touka was the one staring up at him.

“You look stiff as a tree, and I thought that was your brother’s area”, she laughed. “Let go and have fun for once.”

Yoshinori, dancing nearby, called; “Have a drink, Tobirama!”

Tobirama scowled. Even though their community had widened from clan to village, there was certainly something to be said of the lifelong bonds he had inadvertently forged with those whose blood he shared.

“Come on, cousin”, Touka chanted, squeezing his hands once and then thrusting him in the direction of another clan member, Erino.

He had not spoken with her since the founding of the village: He’d had no reason to do so, since she had apparently decided to quit the life of a shinobi with the new peace they had discovered. She was running a bakery instead.

She blushed when he took her hand, the same red staining her cheeks as he remembered from childhood, and laughed like Touka had when he merely swayed in time to the upbeat music playing, not trusting his feet to move where he willed them to.

It was fun, almost. Even when Yoshinori reappeared, spilling his glass as he waved it in Tobirama’s face. Tobirama and Erino batted him away together, calling for their friends to collect him.

Over Yoshinori’s shoulder, Tobirama spotted Madara talking with Hashirama- alone this time- and he stopped moving entirely. Every time he had left Hashirama tonight, Madara had been there, waiting to speak. Their jostling for position of Hashirama’s right-hand man had increased in tension recently.

He split from Erino without explanation, turning away and shouldering about the edge of the crowd to draw closer.

Their tension was not overtly noticeable, fortunately. They stood in the same crowd quite amicably as Hashirama and Mito blessed some of the first babies born into their village. Hashirama laughed in delight- his usual booming laugh, the one that Tobirama could not help but feel relieved to hear had not changed with time- as one of them clutched his finger. It was the infant son of Sasuke Sarutobi; a reliable and honest clan head, and one of the few whom Tobirama was happy to be working with.

Tobirama caught Mito’s eyes, and the two of them shared their laughter. The love when she turned back to Hashirama was undeniable.

It was among the guests, too, even the Uchiha. They laughed and smiled and danced.

Tobirama wondered if perhaps it was true that the Uchiha loved so deeply. Regardless, he thought as he poured himself a drink from a jug on one of the tables, he could put with them for one night.

All he had to do was avoid Madara.

He became aware that he was hovering close to the edge of the dancefloor, close to the bodies that spun and swayed. Someone jostled him and then started in fright when they saw it was Tobirama that they had collided with.

Sinking down into the nearest chair, he took a long sip of his drink. Even in the open air, under the clear night sky, having so many bodies around brought warmth to the atmosphere.

He glanced down the table and groaned internally. Of course, he had to have joined a table largely filled by members of the Hyuuga clan.

“Tobirama”, one of them addressed him, and Tobirama did not recognize him, although he did recognize the young girl by his side: A promising trainee kunoichi named Haruka.

The man kept talking. “We were wondering whether Hashirama- well, yourself, or your brother- had considered taking on students at all.”

Tobirama always felt unnerved talking to the Hyuuga. Perhaps even more so than the Uchiha, in truth, but that was for appearance-based reasons only. The Hyuuga’s lack of pupils made it difficult to maintain eye contact, and Tobirama found himself staring down at the table as he answered.

“Not really.”

The man was persistent.

“Are you sure?”, he continued. “There are many young members of the village who would benefit from such-”

Tobirama cut him off. “What could I teach a Hyuuga?”

Both the man’s and Haruka’s face fell. Tobirama admittedly felt slightly guilty at the sight of the young girl’s disappointment. For a moment, he considered relenting, considered providing them false hope.

Only then a voice cut across, thin and reedy, yet high over the sound of chattering voices.

“Leave him alone, Yuuta. Each should stick to their own. This farce of a community does not mean we are free to intermingle like animals overrunning a farm.”

The acerbic tone was almost enough to make Tobirama wince. He pivoted to see that its owner was an elderly woman at the next table. Her hair was thinning, her face even more so. Despite this, her body was large and round, padded out further by the leather armor she wore. Tobirama knew her, too. Ren Shimura, the matriarch of her clan.

She blinked vacantly and made no sound when Tobirama moved to join her, nursing his drink between his hands.

Ren stared blindly ahead, hands clasping her own drink loosely. It had long been rumored that her eyesight was fading, but people were cautious to keep those rumors away from Ren’s ears for fear of losing their own.

“You do not believe that we are one within the village?”, he murmured, knowing that she would hear.

“You are a sharp one, aren’t you?” She tilted her head. “Next in line, I suppose. If he doesn’t get there first.” She nodded towards where Madara was speaking with another member of the Uchiha, and then laughed. Tobirama’s lips set firmly. “You don’t like that, do you?”

Tobirama stared straight ahead, echoing her pose. “I have no say in the matter.”

“But you wish you did.”

“It is sad that those who are no longer able to hold on to their power do little but gossip as they crouch in the shell of their former glory.”

Ren merely sniffed at him and replied; “It is sadder, still, to never achieve one’s desires. And saddest of all to never know what one truly seeks.”

Tobirama did not answer, partly because of how swift her own response had been and the knowledge that he would not be able to retort as quickly, and partly since he did not wish to be drawn into a metaphor-heavy debate with the woman whose tongue was known throughout the village for never failing to have a comeback.

Regardless, he had all that he had ever sought; his brother by his side, dreams of a peace that they had never known coming true. He had no need to defend that to this crone.

Tobirama stood and moved away minutes later when he again spotted Hashirama and Mito, now wishing farewell to the first of those leaving: It was near nightfall already.

As he passed through the crowds, he caught Erino’s eye, and she flashed him an inquisitive smile and tilted her head, as though hoping he would once again join her. Tobirama turned away.

Mito greeted him warmly when she spotted him, although Hashirama was deep in conversation with a clan leader, in the deep shadows at the doorway.

“Where have you been hiding, dear brother?”, she laughed, pointed teeth on display as she briefly looped an arm about his neck.

Tobirama smiled.

“With Ren Shimura”, he replied, and she barked another laugh before turning to Hashirama.

Tobirama half-turned with her, only to halt when he felt a pulsating presence at her shoulder.

Out of nowhere, Madara was beside him, gaze fixed on Hashirama and Mito, both of them now laughing with the clan head; Masao Hijiri, if Tobirama recalled correctly, an old rival of Ren’s.

Slowly, dark eyes rotated to meet Tobirama’s own.

Tobirama remembered to slow his breathing, although an edge of frost did creep into the air around him that Madara surely did not miss.

“Who would have thought we would be here?”, Madara asked, and his question was light but his eyes were cutting.

Tobirama did not give him an answer. He did not know whether he had one.


	9. Blood

Without really thinking about it, Tobirama raked his fingers through the pebbles on the shore. They braised his fingers, the hard surface scratching his nails unpleasantly. He scooped up a completely smooth rock, turning it over in his palm and enjoying the almost chalky dry feel of it against his calluses. He remembered how, all those years ago- ten years, he figured it must have been, maybe more- Hashirama and Madara had used these stones to warn each other of the danger they were each facing. He had been the danger, then.

He raised his arm above his head, preparing to launch the pebble into the river, before lowering it again. Probing his shoulder blade with his other hand, he winced at the pain.

Something in the trees startled him, and he jerked his head in the direction of the noise.

“I got you good, didn’t I?”, Izuna crowed as he emerged from the trees on the opposing bank. It hadn’t been that long since they had last seen each other and yet his hair seemed to have suddenly found its way down the middle of his back, gathered in his usual loose ponytail. It flew out behind him as he leaped across the stones to the very edge of the river, feet mere inches from the water.

No, it hadn’t been that long at all, Tobirama realized. They had been meeting more frequently over the past year or so- unintentionally, of course; the two seemed to have stumbled across the same spot to train and gather their thoughts, and neither had wanted to relinquish it in spite of their clashes- and, somehow, they had not killed each other yet. Not that Tobirama hadn’t been trying. On the battlefield, he had been trying hard.

“I let you hit me”, he replied stiffly, both in tone and body, “so that I could get close enough to stick a knife in your back. It is not my fault that girl knocked my hand out of the way. You were lucky she was there.”

Izuna chuckled. “That was my fiancée. An incredible fighter, right?”

Tobirama blinked at him, trying to hide his astonishment. Izuna had never mentioned a fiancée before. Not that it was his business to know Uchiha clan affairs.

Eventually, realizing he had been silent for a while, he muttered, so as not to be rude; “I didn’t know you were engaged. Congratulations.”

“Yes. We’re both from main branches, so they kept pushing us together. It worked, I guess.” Izuna shrugged.

Tobirama stood. “Want to see some of the things I’ve been working on?”

Unbothered by the abrupt shift in tone, Izuna smiled and shrugged again. “Okay.” His smile shifted minutely, turned mischievous, and he had crossed the river in a heartbeat. “I might have a few things to show you myself, you know.”

“No Sharingan.”

“No Sharingan”, the Uchiha promised.

As they fought, Tobirama realized Izuna was right: Izuna did get him good. His leg was surely going to scar, and although it had been weeks since their last battle it was still sore.

“What about you?”, Izuna continued, breathing effortlessly even as he wheeled away from Tobirama’s knife. "Got your eye on any girls in your- your village?” He stumbled over the words; the concept of the 'village' still unfamiliar to him.

“Ah- no. I don’t.”

“I hear you’re getting more clans joining you now, though. That must provide more opportunities to be introduced to someone.”

So that was why he was asking. Tobirama narrowed his eyes. “Hmm.”

Izuna tilted his head. His hair drooped over one shoulder, long dark tendrils hanging down. “So, there _are_ more clans joining you?”

“Maybe.” Tobirama didn’t give anything away, enjoying the way Izuna’s smirk fell into an exaggeratedly childish frown. He leaned forward to snag at Izuna's hair, taking advantage of the length, and missed, his fingers just brushing the ends, when Izuna danced out of his grasp.

There hadn’t been, of course. A couple of smaller groups, various branches of other clans who thought they might get a better deal by merging with or marrying into the Senju. But somehow over the last two years, he had managed to convince Izuna that they secretly had a hundred different clans living with and helping them. He was not certain how serious Izuna was, though; he surely must have known from the battles they’d been fighting against each other that there were no other clans coming to the Senju’s aid. Tobirama could feel the pressure from all sides now; their battles were really heating up.

He wondered what would happen if he told his brother about these infrequent run-ins with Izuna. Would Hashirama be happy, seeing it as an opportunity for cooperation? Or would he be spiteful, remembering how Tobirama had betrayed him and Madara all those years before?

Although, of course, this was different: Tobirama and Izuna were not friends as Hashirama and Madara had been friends. These battles merely came about from chance meetings, the two of them sparring off the battlefield as a way of testing their strength. If Tobirama were given the opportunity to end Izuna’s life without significantly endangering his own, he would take it. And now there was no father to run and tell tales to: Just Hashirama, and his vision.

Tobirama still did not trust the Uchiha, still was not sure that the dream would ever become reality. He had been starting to think it may, only now it was starting to look less and less likely. If Izuna was the leader of the Uchiha rather than Madara, perhaps…

Izuna snapped him from his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away. The pressure reminded him, oddly, of how his brother sometimes did the same thing.

He shook himself. Comparing Izuna to his brother was strange. Largely, he thought, because it was too odd, comparing a Senju and an Uchiha.

“Hey. You still with me?”, Izuna asked, and Tobirama shook his head, taking further steps away, his feet moving automatically.

“Yes, I am.” He stopped. “You should leave.” And then, teasingly; “Won’t your fiancée be waiting?”

Izuna inclined his head. “She will.”

His eyes shimmered, and Tobirama wondered whether the Uchiha were capable of the same love that the Senju felt. He voiced the question, so quietly that he hoped Izuna would not hear.

Of course, he did.

“We love the same”, Izuna replied. “I believe we just see it from a different angle.”

“Do you think you could love a Senju woman like you love your fiancée?”

Izuna seemed to actually consider it, tilting his head. “I… Don’t know.” He swallowed. “In another world, perhaps. Not this one.”

Tobirama nodded. Of course. Too much bad blood.

The same reason Madara and Hashirama could never really have been friends. The same reason Tobirama could never care for an Uchiha.

There was the sound of pebbles shifting as Izuna climbed to his feet and, in the blink of an eye, he stood on the opposite bank of the river.

He raised one hand in farewell. “Well, see you around, Senju.”

Tobirama blinked. “See you around, Uchiha.”

*

Tsunade and Jiraiya are still bickering, their voices echoing about the clearing.

“I’ll make a much better Hokage than you ever could, idiot!” Tsunade stamps her foot, hard enough that Tobirama feels the vibrations, and he winces.

Swiftly, he raises one hand. “Silence.”

It works: The children immediately fall quiet, turning to him with large wondering eyes.

“To be a great leader…”, Tobirama begins, and pauses, swallowing. The children are all staring up at him. “… Means more than battle prowess. It means putting others before yourself. It means fighting for the future.”

Jiraiya scrunches up his nose. “But don’t you need to fight on the battlefield?”

“He means fighting metaphorically, I believe”, Orochimaru murmurs, his voice low.

“He means what?”

Orochimaru merely shakes his head at his teammates. Tobirama takes back his earlier suppositions: His niece is clearly the only hope for this team.

Slowly, he sinks back to the grass. A serious air has settled in around them. That was probably a good thing, he figures.

When the other adults join and announce that they are splitting for training- Hiruzen taking the children, Tobirama training with the rest of his team- he feels relief.

*

Flames.

Flames were all Tobirama could see as he propped himself up against the rock he had just been flung against. His muscles screamed in protest, yet he moved swiftly enough, interlacing his fingers together, to blast a jet of water back at his opponent.

The resulting steam shrouded the entire battlefield and Tobirama held back a cough, using his arm to shield his mouth as he got back to his feet. His eyes streamed and his nose hurt.

Distantly, he could hear the sounds of swords clashing. Somewhere out there, Hashirama and Madara were locked in battle. Tobirama held little real fear for his brother’s life; still, he hoped this would end quickly.

Many of their fellow clanmates were wounded, although the Uchiha appeared to be worst off, judging by the number of bodies slumped over on the ground.

Stumbling over a motionless form, Tobirama pulled a set of knives from under his cloak and flung them in the direction he had last seen Izuna.

When he heard them flying through the air and beginning to clatter to the ground- _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_ \- he knew none of them had made their target, and he grit his teeth together, lunging after them with his sword.

Through the mist, he saw it.

Red eyes, the color of blood. Deep and stained with black.

Tobirama recoiled in horror, body moving instinctively.

Kill the enemy. Eliminate the threat.

His new jutsu came to him faster and more naturally than he could ever have expected, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind. That was good.

He felt warm blood spraying across his body, saw it sinking into the dirt, and sliding down blades of grass like raindrops after a storm. Felt the erratic pulsating of fear in the chakras about him.

The words exchanged between Hashirama and Madara went unheard to his ears, as he watched Izuna’s limp form slumped against Madara’s side.

Afterward, as he and his brother stood over the Uchiha prisoners and they tended to their wounded, Tobirama told himself that everything would turn out fine. Surely the Uchiha had healers. None as gifted as theirs, of course, but one who could seal up the deep wound he had caused. Just one with moderate abilities was all they really needed. Just one.

Tobirama shook himself, jabbing one of the prisoners he was escorting with the handle of his sword. It was all warfare. He should not dwell so much on the outcome of a battle: It had never been good for him.

Still, at home, he imagines Izuna’s body, lying cold in the dirt- just like Itama’s- and the thought unsettles him. It is even more unsettling to know it is something that cannot be taken back. He can’t take anything back, not now.

Days later, Tobirama accompanied his brother to talk with the Uchiha, and Tobirama knew as soon as he saw Madara’s eyes.

“What happened to Izuna?”, he asked someone, he was not entirely sure who, blankly, already knowing the answer. He had heard rumors, but he had not wanted to believe them.

The only answer he received was a cool stare.

Somewhere in his mind, now, faced with the reality of Izuna’s death, he tried to find comfort in them. In that Madara may have been the one to plunge the knife, in order to take his brother’s power. Initially, it was difficult to convince himself, yet the seed took root and flourished the more he thought about it.

Even as his brother drew his kunai and raised it to his own stomach, Tobirama kept fixated on Madara’s face. He was the source of all of this, the source of all this pain. He was the one who should be rotting in the ground. And yet, Hashirama wanted Madara alive, and Tobirama could not deny his brother anything.

So Tobirama continued to stare, hoping the challenge would be apparent: _As soon as my brother is gone, I will kill you._

As ever, Madara was not looking at him.


	10. Storm

That day, as he left the camp, Tobirama spied his brother wandering by the trees at the very edges of their home.

His broad face was tilted upwards foliage above them, eyes wide, and his expression calm. The branches seemed swollen with an abundance of green leaves, all swaying gently in the wind. Tobirama could not see anything particularly interesting up there.

“Brother.” Hashirama turned at the sound of his voice, startled for once, and then relaxed into a smile. “What are you doing?”

Hashirama looked back up at the leaves. Upon closer inspection, it was hard to tell whether he was staring into them or at the stretches of blue in the gaps between them.

“Merely thinking.” He remained quiet for a moment, before continuing to speak. “I know that Madara is going to change his mind soon: I’m sure of it.”

Tobirama kept his usual neutral expression. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Stepping into the undergrowth, he met his brother’s questioning stare; “I’m going to train. I won’t ask you to join me; I know you disagree with some of my methods.”

Hashirama’s eyes narrowed, and Tobirama held his breath. As much as he acted it, Hashirama was far from an imbecile. His eyes stared blankly for a moment, pitch black and endless.

_What does he see_ , Tobirama wondered, _when he looks back at me? What does he know?_

Luckily, his brother simply clapped a hand on his shoulder and laughed. “That’s the spirit. Be back before dinner, Touka is joining us.”

Making a face, as though they were still the same children that used to hunker by the fireside and listen to stories, Tobirama slipped free of his brother's grip and journeyed through the trees.

He glanced back over his shoulder, once, to find that Hashirama had resumed his previous activity: Standing stock still, hands loosely by his sides, gazing upward. The only movement Tobirama caught was the breeze ruffling his clothes before he was swallowed up among the undergrowth and lost from sight.

Without thinking, he traveled to what had become the normal place: By the river. He wondered, sometimes, why he still came, and why there. Perhaps there was the memory of that first meeting, when he followed his brother in an effort to test the limits of his abilities.

A lone bird cawed overhead. Tobirama wondered what might happen if Madara did agree to peace. The war was beginning to intensify once more, and both sides were losing soldiers. At some point, something had to give, surely. He considered the possibility of an actual village, of families living together and protecting each other, of sharing ancient clan secrets. It was a ridiculous idea, of course, one only his brother would ever dare to dream of. But then, what if that dream really could become a reality?

Izuna's footsteps were almost silent as he approached, on the same side of the river. The stones only shifted audibly beneath him when he sat down, several feet from Tobirama. A reasonably safe distance.

"You looked like you were thinking hard", he commented. "What were you thinking about?"

Tobirama shook himself. “It doesn’t really matter.”

He stood, turning to face Izuna, and the Uchiha copied his movements. Tobirama saw that he had cut his hair; it rested just below his shoulders now.

Raising his knife, Tobirama reached out to flick at it, and Izuna raised a hand protectively. "Don't. I'm probably going to have to cut it again soon."

"I can help you with that", he smirked back, waving his knife again.

"I’d rather you didn’t."

Tobirama wondered if there was a reason behind the haircuts. The Uchiha took their hair quite seriously, he knew. Hashirama was similar to them in that way, at least: He kept his own long and well-managed, combing it regularly. Tobirama had never had time for such a thing, hacking at his own to keep it out of his eyes and hard to get a hold of on the battlefield. Maybe it was seen by some as being less honorable, but it was more practical.

He was about to ask when Izuna murmured; “Can I tell you something?”

That sounded serious. Tobirama shook his head. “I don’t want to talk, Uchiha. Sparring only. Come on.”

Izuna did not seem satisfied; something in his chakra was unsettled, the fluttering heartbeat picking up speed in a way that made Tobirama's stomach clench. He fought to ignore it.

When he struck, he aimed straight for Izuna's shoulder with his sword, an easy blow to parry. Yet, he was still shocked at how easily Izuna knocked his sword aside. The clanging of metal against metal sent more birds screeching towards the sky.

As they moved, circling each other, Tobirama realized that Izuna seemed slightly unaware of their surroundings, so focused on countering his opponent's movements. Tobirama had not seen him so distracted before.

Using it to his advantage, he waited until Izuna had almost completed a full circle, his own back to the river and Izuna's to the woods behind. Then, he surged forwards, forcing Izuna up against a tree trunk with a sword to his throat.

Tobirama's thoughts immediately turned to a substitution jutsu; to Izuna forcing him away with sheer brute strength. Whatever Izuna threw at him, he would be prepared for it.

Instead, he heard the thump of metal striking earth.

Izuna had dropped his sword.

Tobirama frowned. Was this another trick? Not once in their sparring sessions had either of them admitted defeat: They fought until they were too tired to fight, and then they went home and hid their wounds and continued the fight in the next battle between the Senju and the Uchiha. That was how it had always been.

“Okay”, Izuna said, meeting Tobirama's quizzical gaze. “I’m done.”

Tobirama's hands were hot, and sweating in his gloves. His sword was still clasped in his right one, blade directed at Izuna's throat.

He could end it. Right there and then. It would not be noble, perhaps, to slit an enemy's throat when they were defenseless, but it was an opportunity that was unlikely to present itself again.

He looked into Izuna's eyes.

Dark. No Sharingan.

Izuna stared back at him with an unfathomable expression, hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face, chin tilted up. His lips were pressed together so hard that they were almost white.

Tobirama dropped his arms and hurriedly stepped away. He kept his sword close to his side.

“Let’s rest for a moment, and then continue.”

“Alright then.” Izuna tilted his head and stooped to gather up his own sword. Tobirama turned away as he did so, stomping across the clearing.

The winds had picked up, and so Tobirama elected to sit on the floor by the edge of the trees, in the hopes that they would provide a shelter for them. While he stared around at the clearing, Izuna removed his hair from its ponytail and began winding it back up to redo it, apparently still oblivious to his surroundings. Tobirama wondered how the Uchiha had survived for so long.

Beside him, despite their sitting a few feet apart, Izuna's warmth was a welcome relief from the wind. He almost wanted to move toward the heat, but he kept rooted to the spot, frowning at a loose thread on his sleeve. He would have to stitch that when he returned home.

Something touched Tobirama's arm and he was on his feet, knife drawn.

Izuna was still sitting with his hand outstretched. He blinked in surprise, locked eyes with Tobirama, and laughed.

Tobirama found himself chuckling a little also, that he was so shocked by Izuna touching him.

“You never let your guard down for long, do you?”, Izuna asked, tilting his head.

Tobirama settled back down beside him, shuddering into his jacket at the fresh gale ripping through the trees and started picking at some grass. "I can’t afford to. Not with you around."

Izuna laughed again.

“You shouldn’t let yours’ down around me, either”, Tobirama warned.

“Oh, believe me”, said Izuna, “I don’t.”

Tobirama looked at him from the corner of his eyes, still plucking at the grass. Izuna had finished fiddling with his hair and was watching Tobirama, smiling a nearly eerie smile.

"I’m done resting now", Tobirama decided. "Come on, let’s fight again." It had grown too cold to keep sitting where they were.

Infuriatingly, Izuna shook his head. "No, let’s just sit a while longer."

"Afraid I’ll beat you again?"

Izuna failed to rise to the bait. He simply continued to stare out, across the clearing, to the river.

His chakra was spiking now, and Tobirama wondered again what it was he had wanted to speak about. He shuffled a little closer to Izuna. He knew he was not very good with complicated emotional things; especially things he did not particularly care for, such as the Uchiha. Yet, gaining an insight into the mind of one of their clan members could provide valuable information which may be of assistance to his brother.

Izuna seemed to understand that this was an invitation to speak. “What I wanted to talk about, earlier… I don’t know how to say this, but… I’ve been thinking about the path my life is on.” He looked at Tobirama. “Are you happy?”

Tobirama frowned. He was not sure what to reply to that. He enjoyed spending time with his brother, protecting his people. The thrill of the fight. Coming up with new battle techniques. Planning and organizing. Attempting to reach out to Clan heads alongside his brother. Was that happiness?

When Tobirama failed to respond, Izuna continued; "I guess I'm saying this to you, Senju, because I thought maybe you would understand. Our brothers are always talking about the future, arguing about the future. My fiancée- she likes to talk about the future, too. But we’ve all lost so many people, on both sides… I can’t help but wonder. If I will live to see the future, whether it turns out like my brother wishes, or yours, or if it simply carries on as it is."

Out of nowhere, Tobirama remembered that Izuna had lost three siblings, to his two.

“We have to believe we will see that future”, he told Izuna, although his words felt like an empty husk, a hollowed-out tree collecting rain after a storm. “For our brothers. For our clans. Mostly because we deserve to see it too, however it turns out.”

Was Izuna beginning to see things Hashirama's way? He wondered why he felt oddly excited about that. Was this perhaps signalling a change of heart within the Uchiha clan? Tobirama did not want to get his hopes up, but he could not help probing further.

He turned to Izuna. "Do you think that there could be a future without war?"

Izuna smiled. Their heads were close together now, and everything behind Izuna seemed to fade and become a distant background, nothing more than a blur of brown and green.

"That’s the thing. They’re always talking about stuff they don’t know the answer to. Your brother… My brother… They have dreams, but no practicalities. Those futures… They feel so far from me."

"Me too", Tobirama told him. He had told his brother, of course, what he thought of his dreams, that they needed stable, practical plans to back them up, but the rest of the clan, so caught up in Hashirama’s idealism, had always been swept along by his brother’s charisma, and things had nearly always turned out right for him. He had never had someone express to him that they thought the same way; that these futures were just straws to clutch at. The reality of it stunned him to silence.

"It’s not that I don’t believe in their futures", Izuna continued, "it’s just that I can’t see their value when we are living in the present. Where there’s war. Where any of us could die any day."

The rain began, then, and Tobirama could see the droplets running down Izuna's face. One worked its way around the crease of his eye socket and rolled down his smooth pale cheek.

“If my brother were here, he would say that’s exactly why we need to work towards a peaceful resolution." Tobirama swallowed. Maybe, if he could just make Izuna understand... "For future generations. But… I do know what you mean. The things we’ve lost… Can’t be brought back.”

They were speaking in whispers now, and the crack of thunder that roared overhead made them both jump.

"We should go home", Tobirama said.

But Izuna shook his head. "Wait. Let the worst of the storm pass, and then we'll go."

Tobirama sighed. He should go. Hashirama may be worried.

Another roar of thunder, so loud the ground seemed to shake with it, had him squeezing back into a small thicket of trees. From there, they could see the river, but would not be seen themselves at first glance. The perfect vantage point, he supposed.

As Izuna slipped in beside him, Tobirama could feel his warmth, even as he shuddered and trembled. After some time, Tobirama removed his cloak and, eventually, Izuna did the same, linking the two together so that they could huddle underneath to keep dry. That was something Tobirama could recall learning from Father from a very early age, perhaps too early to have really needed to know: The basics of survival.

"I feel like I could fall asleep", Izuna remarked, but Tobirama knew neither of them would. Too risky.

Rather than sleeping, they sat side by side as the sun gave way to moonlight, watching the rain fall and hardly daring to breathe.

*

It is much later in the evening that Tobirama and his team walk back to the village together.

Torifu is just in front, broad back blocking the view of most of the path ahead. Not that Tobirama needs to see it. Even though it is a different route than he had taken that morning, he knows every way in and out of the village by heart. Danzou walks beside Torifu, clutching at one side of his ribs. Torifu has an arm around his waist and is taking some of his weight, but Danzou seems determined not to appear weak, struggling on and carrying himself as best as he can. Tobirama can hear him saying something about gathering his own team to train tomorrow. Typical. Always wanting to outdo Hiruzen.

Koharu and Homura are walking somewhere further ahead. Tobirama cannot see them but can hear their gentle chattering. Kagami walks by Tobirama’s side in silence.

The shadows are long around them. The entire world is amber streaked with black, like the pelt of a tiger, and the earlier clouds in the sky had clustered and turned storm grey. A flock of birds stirs in the trees overhead. Tobirama draws his cloak tighter about himself. His leg is screaming from the stress he had caused it throughout the day yet, he thinks, it has done it good to push his limits as he has. It will likely be only a couple of more days before Mito will allow him back in action.

He pauses as they reached the rock overlooking Konoha, where the trail briefly emerges from the forest before dipping back down into the trees behind the rock and winding down to the gates.

Looking out over the miniature houses below, his mind wanders far away from the spot where he stands. To the people he cares about and is fighting to protect. To the people he once cared about and perhaps should have fought harder for.

He closes his eyes, feels the breeze ruffling his hair. It smells like rain is coming.

“Lord Second? Are you okay?”

Tobirama opens his eyes.

Kagami is standing several feet away, eyes wide with concern. They are black, he sees. Pitch black.

Further ahead, he sees that Danzou and Torifu are also paused, waiting for him.

Kagami is shivering; he has his arms wrapped around his chest, still so slender and thin, and Tobirama is again reminded of how young they all were.

“I’m fine. I’m just taking my time. Enjoying the view.” He gives them a rare smile and begins moving forward once more.

*

“I need to go”, Tobirama told Izuna after the storm had passed. It was late; the sun was drawing long shadows out from the trees, and the entire clearing before them had already been enveloped in darkness.

Izuna passed Tobirama his coat and he pulled it on over his head, throwing his cloak over it to hide how rumpled it had gotten. Izuna pulled his own cloak about his shoulders and they emerged from the small copse of trees they had ended up nestling into, out of view of anyone who might pass by, back into the clearing.

It was surprising how silent the world was. Even the river appeared to have stilled. The quiet set Tobirama on edge. If he had been on a mission, he might have thought he’d wandered into a trap. He suddenly felt uneasy in the open air and longed to retreat back into the forest, back to his home. To make sure the world hadn’t changed around him, unnoticed.

“I don’t want anyone to come looking”, he said. He felt like he was trying to explain something to Izuna, although that was ridiculous. It was what it was; there was nothing to explain. Still, he felt different, somehow. They felt different.

“We should probably both go home”, said Izuna, and Tobirama looked at him for the first time since he stood up. Izuna’s face was calm.

He was looking up at the first stars. His eyes were black now, studded with tiny white reflections, but Tobirama knew what lay hidden within them. Just as the stars hadn’t changed tonight, neither had Izuna. He was still an Uchiha.

As he watched, Izuna averted his gaze from the darkening sky and turned to Tobirama, sharp chin pointing at him.

The dark-haired man’s face split in a smile. “See you again soon, though.”

Tobirama didn’t answer. He didn’t think that was a good idea; it had never been a good idea. Saying that out loud to Izuna had always seemed impossible, though.

He took several steps away from where Izuna stood by the bank of the river, walking towards the treeline, then half-turned towards the Uchiha.

Izuna was still watching him. His smile had faded, replaced by the same calm, neutral expression from before.

“I’m still not sure how to feel about you”, Tobirama admitted. He spoke quietly, but his voice rang out through the absence of background noise. “About any of this.”

He wasn’t even sure why he had just said that.

It wasn’t a feeling he was used to; not knowing. It made him uncomfortable. His body itched.

Izuna looked once more like he wanted to say something, opening his mouth, then stopped.

Instead, Izuna, who would die two weeks later, smiled and told him, eyes shining; “That’s okay.” He laughed. “I’m not sure about you, either.”

From the way he laughed, Tobirama felt like he should have laughed too; like there was some joke there he wasn’t getting.

He turned away without another word and walked into the trees.

As he reached the edge of where the forest broke open, he looked back, just once. Izuna had knelt in front of the river, looking out over it as it flowed past, ignorant of their lives. The moonlight had turned the water silver, and the same silver was glinting in Izuna’s hair.

Tobirama stood there for a moment longer. He thought about his brother’s dream. He still didn’t believe it would ever be more than a dream but, he had to admit, it was a good dream to have.

Finally, he made himself turn away and began his journey home.

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is going to be pretty self-indulgent because I honestly wish that in canon they had explored the early days of Konoha more, and I really think Tobirama is an interesting character that a lot of people have contradicting opinions of.
> 
> So the coming chapters, like this one, are going to begin and end with a flashback, with a short segment in the middle set in the 'present'. These will eventually converge on one specific moment.
> 
> As always, if you like this or don't like this or have any suggestions or just want to chat, leave a comment! :)


End file.
